


Cross Into the Blue

by daniomalley



Series: Salvage [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Air Force, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniomalley/pseuds/daniomalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: An AU set in the universe of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324">Alex51324’s</a> Finding Home trilogy. Frank is a Sentinel in the Air Force and Ray is his Guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [They Have To Take You In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/950988) by [Alex51324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324/pseuds/Alex51324). 



> Author's Notes: This fic is complete in 5 parts and will be updated on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
> 
> I'd like to give a huge thank to [Alex51324](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324) for giving permission to use her setting for this fic. It’s been nearly two years since I approached her about writing a fic set in her verse and she was lovely enough to say yes. At times I wasn’t sure I’d ever finish this, but it is done at last. \o/
> 
> This fic takes place several years before the events of [Some Good, To Someone in the World](http://archiveofourown.org/works/951293?view_adult=true) and should make sense even if you haven’t read the Finding Home trilogy. However, I highly recommend reading the [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/55517) if you have any interest in The Sentinel fanfic, truly excellent worldbuilding, really satisfying h/c or just extremely well written fic in general.
> 
> I also want to thank [littlerhymes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerhymes) for betaing this and being incredibly patient as I slooowly got it into shape and ready to post. I can say with complete certainty that this would never have been finished without her insight and support. 
> 
> This fic is a fill for [longfic_bingo](http://longfic-bingo.livejournal.com/), filling the prompts Soulbonding, Broken bone, Rape/non-con, Dystopia and Wild Card: Military.

The first thing Frank received when he arrived at Maxwell Air Force Base – before he’d had his medical, before he’d even been issued bed linen – was an order to meet with his Sentinel Recruitment Board liaison. He took the news with a certain amount of trepidation.

Frank was a Sentinel, someone with five senses that were more powerful than an ordinary human’s. Sometimes, it was damn useful. The trade-off was that Sentinels were subject to conscription, unlike the regular population. Frank was making the best of it, but the military was never something he would have chosen for himself.

"Airman Iero, reports as ordered, sir," Frank called, rapping at the office door.

"Enter," answered a voice from within. Frank stepped into a smallish office, with shelves on either side laden with books and folders. The liaison, a Captain Boyd, sat behind a desk typing at a computer. He didn't look up for a couple of minutes; Frank waited patiently, looking out the window behind him and watching a group of airmen marching past in formation. Eventually, the captain looked aside from the computer monitor and said, "Airman Iero. Welcome to Maxwell."

"Thank you, sir," Frank answered.

“Take a seat, Airman. We need to discuss something.” Frank sat, and the Captain continued, “I asked for this meeting because there’s been an unexpected complication with your Guide.”

“Sergeant Butler, sir?” All Sentinels worked with a Guide. Without one, they were subject to problems with their senses which could range from mild discomfort or inconvenience to serious medical issues. In America, Guides faced conscription in the same way that Sentinels did.

Well, almost the same way.

“Yes. Butler is on medical leave and will be for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh,” Frank said with some surprise. “I, uh, I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s being given the finest medical care,” Boyd said, brushing the topic aside. “Unfortunately, we have had some difficulty locating another Guide for you on such short notice, but there is another Guide on base whose current assignment has just come to an end.”

“Right,” said Frank. “That’s good, then, sir?” There had to be more to it, or Boyd wouldn’t have called him in like this.

Boyd looked down at a folder lying open on the desk, then closed it and put his hand on top of it. “Let me be clear, Iero – I recommended against this, but I’ve been overruled. You’re inexperienced at working with Guides, and your instructors from Sentinel School indicated that you weren’t... entirely settled into the leadership role expected of you.”

“You mean pushing my Guide around just because I can?” Frank asked, tacking on a “Sir?” when Boyd’s expression moved from serious to thunderous.

“That’s exactly the sort of thing I’m talking about, Airman,” he said severely. “The hierarchy we have in the Air Force serves a purpose, and you have no respect for it. The roles assigned to Sentinels and Guides are those they’re best suited to, as determined by longstanding traditions and extensive research by people far more knowledgeable than you.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Frank. He wasn’t, but he wanted the lecture to end.

“It’s my hope that you’ll learn an important lesson from this,” Boyd went on. “Sentinels often feel a compulsion to protect their Guides, and sometimes that’s necessary – Guides need protecting from their own foolish impulses, if nothing else. But you must also protect yourself – any Guide, given the opportunity, can be manipulative or underhanded. This Guide, in particular.”

“Why, sir?” Frank asked, curiosity distracting him from his distaste at the Captain’s words. “What did he do?”

“He made a false accusation about the conduct of one of his previous Sentinels,” Boyd answered. He took the folder and pushed it across the desk towards Frank. On the front he could make out the words ‘Senior Airman Toro, R.’ “Since my hand is being forced here, I hope you will at least take the opportunity to learn something about managing Guides. This is an excellent example of why it doesn’t pay to become lax about military discipline. I’m not saying that the Sentinel in question was at fault, but proper handling can often prevent problems of this sort. You must establish clear boundaries and expectations at the outset; failing to do so can lead to a Guide trying to push the boundaries or get away with things, and then you’re forced to crack down – if a firm routine isn’t put in place from the start, the Guide can come to believe they’re being punished unfairly and act out. Go gossiping to other personnel for sympathy, or make up stories, as happened in this case.”

It was the same spiel they’d tried to give Frank at Sentinel School. He hadn’t bought it then, and he wasn’t buying it now. Despite what Boyd had said, he did understand that military rank served a purpose and that it was important for orders to be followed. He could respect that, even if he didn’t like it. But no one had managed to convince him that Guides should be any different to any other enlisted personnel, or that the virtually unlimited power the law granted Sentinels over their Guides was justified or necessary in any way. He’d learned that there was no point arguing the issue with anyone associated with the SRB, however, so he just said, “Yes, sir, I understand.”

Boyd nodded and indicated the folder he’d pulled out. “Guide Toro has been briefed and will report to you this afternoon. You’ll be meeting with his G-TAC liaison officer within the next few days. He will help you ensure your working relationship with Toro starts off on the right foot. You should be sure to follow his advice. And I will also be available should you have any questions or concerns.” He picked the file up and held it out to Frank. “Take the Guide’s file and read it, today preferably, while you have the time. And don’t forget what I’ve said.”

“I won’t, sir,” Frank promised. He wouldn’t forget, although he was reserving judgement about whether or not he would take the Captain’s advice. 

Frank left the room and went back to his dorm, which was still empty. He was the first member of the class to arrive. He'd been sent to Maxwell to do officer training; if he could get through the next three months of training successfully, he’d been assured a place in the pilot training program, and he liked the idea of that.

It was still early, not yet lunch time, so Frank made up his bed and double-checked that everything else in the room was squared away. There wouldn't be any inspection before the course had started, but he’d grown used to keeping everything a certain way and seeing things out of place now made him twitchy.

Once there was nothing left to do to make the room tidy, Frank glanced back over to the desk, where he'd left the folder he'd received from Captain Boyd. He approached it as he might a coiled snake, and tentatively flipped it open.

The first document was a report from Senior Airman Toro’s Guide Training and Assignment Centre (G-TAC) liaison, basically saying that following feedback from Toro’s previous Sentinel – some guy named Stephens – they had decided to allow Toro’s reassignment to Frank despite the liaison’s misgivings. The page didn’t tell Frank anything that he hadn’t already learned from the meeting with Captain Boyd, so he moved on.

The next thing he found was another report from the same liaison, dated three months earlier. Toro had settled in acceptably with Major Stephens, it said, and although there had been some initial resistance Stephens was satisfied with Toro’s response to disciplinary measures. The whole report left Frank feeling unsettled. The writer spoke about Toro as though he was some kind of wild animal, set to lash out or attack at the slightest provocation and needing to be restrained, but there was no hint in the pages as to why the writer felt that way.

The next document he pulled out was a transcript of an interview with an Air Force Office of Special Investigations officer, dated from about a year ago.

> S.A. Hudson: State your name for the record.  
>  Sgt. Toro: Staff Sergeant Raymond Toro.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant, what is the nature of your complaint?  
>  Sgt. Toro: That, uh... [indistinct]  
>  S.A. Hudson: Please speak clearly, sergeant.  
>  Sgt. Toro: I, uh, my Sentinel, Lieutenant [name redacted], he, uh, he forced me to, uh, you know...  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant, you have stepped forward to make a complaint against an officer. Please state the nature of your complaint clearly for the record, so that our investigation may proceed.  
>  Sgt. Toro: Lieutenant [name redacted] raped me.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant, are you aware of the serious nature of your allegation?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You are alleging that your Sentinel, Lieutenant [name redacted], committed a sexual assault against you, in violation United States law, of Air Force regulations, and of Section 11 of the Sentinel Recruitment Board regulations for Sentinel conduct?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: When are you alleging that this incident took place?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Wednesday, January 5th, at around 0700.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Let the record show that the date is January 10th. Sergeant, you waited five days to make this report.  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You didn’t report this incident immediately after it happened?  
>  Sgt. Toro: No, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Why is that?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I... I was busy, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You were busy?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: I see. Sergeant, please state for the record what happened during this alleged assault on January 5th.  
>  Sgt. Toro: Uh, I was making breakfast, and Lieutenant [name redacted] came into the kitchen and pushed me up... uh, up against the bench.  
>  S.A. Hudson: The kitchen bench?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: And then?  
>  Sgt. Toro: He told me to, um, pull down my pants.  
>  S.A. Hudson: He ordered you?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: And you...  
>  Sgt. Toro: I said no, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You said no?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You refused a direct order?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: What happened then?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Lieutenant [name redacted] threatened me.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Threatened you how?  
>  Sgt. Toro: He said that he would, um, that he would report me for...  
>  S.A. Hudson: For what, Sergeant?  
>  Sgt. Toro: For, well... the week before, Lieutenant [name redacted] g- uh, he, uh, performed oral sex on me. And he said that he’d make a report that I forced him to.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant Toro – are you saying that you were in a consensual sexual relationship with Lieutenant [name redacted] at the time of the assault?  
>  Sgt. Toro: No. Um, no... we’re not... I mean...  
>  S.A. Hudson: But this was not the only time when the two of you have had sexual contact?  
>  Sgt. Toro: No.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Hmm. Alright, so Lieutenant [name redacted] threatened to report you for a sexual assault?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: And so you took down your pants?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: What then?  
>  Sgt. Toro: He, um, he... touched me. You know.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant, please be specific for the record.  
>  Sgt. Toro: He touched my butt. He put his hand between... you know. Um, between my cheeks...  
>  S.A. Hudson: At this point, what did you do?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I said no. I tried to pull away, but I couldn’t.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You made it clear that you did not consent to sexual contact with Lieutenant [name redacted]?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: And Lieutenant [name redacted] physically overpowered you?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: What were your exact words to Lieutenant [name redacted]?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I said, um, ‘No, don’t,’ and then I think I said, ‘please stop,’ or ‘please don’t’.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You think?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I don’t remember exactly. It was something like that.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You don’t recall exactly?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Not exactly, no.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Do you recall if you said this quietly, or loudly? To your recollection, did Lieutenant [name redacted] reply in any way?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I said it loudly. A little louder than a conversational tone. Lieutenant [name redacted] didn’t say anything in reply.  
>  S.A. Hudson: What happened after that?  
>  Sgt. Toro: He raped me.  
>  S.A. Hudson: There was penetration?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: And you are certain that Lieutenant [name redacted] was aware that you had not consented, and that there was no possibility of misunderstanding?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You’re sure that Lieutenant [name redacted] did not fail to hear, or mishear, what you said?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I’m sure.  
>  S.A. Hudson: You’re certain, even though you don’t recall exactly what you said, and in fact Lieutenant [name redacted] gave no indication of having heard you?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I... yes, I’m sure. I remember... I remember I loudly said ‘no’, and Lieutenant [name redacted] ignored me.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Is it possible that Sentinel [name redacted] was experiencing sensory distress, and was incapable of hearing you at the time?  
>  Sgt. Toro: I don’t think... um...  
>  S.A. Hudson: Answer the question, Guide.  
>  Sgt. Toro: I suppose... I mean, I really don’t think so. There were no signs that Lieutenant [name redacted] was in sensory distress.  
>  S.A. Hudson: So during the alleged sexual assault, while Lieutenant [name redacted] pinned you face down on the kitchen bench, you observed no signs of sensory distress?  
>  Sgt. Toro: No.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Would you say that at the time of the alleged sexual assault, it was impossible that Lieutenant [name redacted] was experiencing sensory distress?  
>  Sgt. Toro: No. But I tried to push him off. He had to have realised...  
>  S.A. Hudson: Please just answer the questions, Guide.  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes, sir. Uh, no, sir.  
>  S.A. Hudson: Sergeant, do you wish to proceed with formal charges?  
>  Sgt. Toro: Yes sir, I do. 

Frank dropped the sheets back into the folder and slammed it closed. What the fuck was this doing in Toro’s file? It was one thing to read about his performance on previous assignments, his experience and areas of expertise, that was relevant information that Frank needed to know, but this.... It was a violation of Toro’s privacy for him to have it. He should have stopped reading as soon as he’d realised what it was. Frank was angry with himself, and with the SRB liaison who’d given it to him. Maybe it had been a mistake, but someone should have realised and removed the confidential documents before giving him the file.

After a few minutes Frank managed to calm down. At least now he knew what Boyd had been alluding to earlier. He shouldn’t have read the transcript, but it was probably better that he knew – it might keep him from doing something stupid. He wasn’t sure why AFOSI had decided Toro’s accusation was a false one, Toro’s story had sounded pretty convincing to him, but maybe there was something he didn’t know. Or maybe the guy who’d interviewed him was just an asshole – he sure sounded like one. Asking Toro whether the Sentinel had attacked him because of sensory problems – Frank was new to being a Sentinel, but he’d gone through some spikes and zones at Sentinel School, and it had never made him do... anything like that. He felt vaguely insulted on behalf of Sentinels everywhere.

He told himself to look on the bright side. Whether Toro had lied or not, Frank needed to be careful around him. It wasn’t uncommon for Sentinels and their Guides to be physically involved, and Frank hadn’t been opposed to the idea in theory, but it was best to keep it off the table while he and Toro were assigned together. 

**************

When Ray’s assignment with Major Stephens hit the ten-month mark, Ray had begun to hope that it would soon be finishing up. The military didn’t like Sentinels to work with the same Guides for too long unless they were planning to bond, and he knew that Stephens had no intention of bonding with him, so chances seemed good that they’d be reassigning him soon. Another couple of months passed before Ray received new orders, and when he did he wondered why he’d been so eager to move on. He’d been assigned to a young Sentinel, fresh out of Sentinel School and just about to start Officer Training. It was going to be miserable.

“Airman Iero has been warned about you, Toro,” said his G-TAC liaison. “And if I hear one single complaint about your behaviour, I will personally see to it that your next Sentinel makes Major Stephens look like a kindergarten teacher.”

Awesome. Being a shiny new Sentinel’s first ever Guide was always a shitty assignment anyway, and this one would have been warned that Ray, specifically, was a troublemaker. And if he decided to complain about Ray, for any reason or no reason at all, the Air Force would stick him with the worst Sentinel they could find. This was going to suck, in every way he could imagine and probably a few he just hadn’t thought of yet.

Ray tried not to worry about it. He hadn’t got through the last year, or the six months before that, or the three years before that, by worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet. Sure, he was sort of aware that it was an imperfect system and that sometimes his coping strategies let him down, but he didn’t have anything better. He got by.

He'd already eaten and he'd been told to report to Iero immediately, so Ray took his single bag and marched over to the dorm where Iero’s flight would be housed during Basic Officer Training. Ray would be staying there with him for the duration of the course.

There were a number of personnel hanging around, all various ranks of enlisted. Some of them would have applied to do Officer Training directly after boot camp, while others would have several years of service under their belts. The latter, as far as Ray knew, handled the demands of the training a bit better due to their experience. His Sentinel would be one of the former. All Sentinels got sent to Officer Training. Sentinels were supposed to be too competitive and headstrong to take orders easily; they were supposed to be natural leaders. Ray couldn’t help but wonder how that worked, when every officer had to report to someone more highly ranked, but that was the sort of question you didn’t ask.

Ray looked around the room, trying to find the Sentinel. There would be only one. The prevailing wisdom said that Sentinels tended to not get along with one another. Ray had certainly seen evidence to back that up, but it was hard to know if it was because Sentinels were really that territorial or just because all the Sentinels Ray had known were assholes. After surveying the entire room, Ray concluded that the Sentinel wasn’t there. He would have to wait.

As Ray stood there waiting for direction, the other people in the room started to notice him and looked around. Ray tried to ignore them and appear unconcerned by the scrutiny. He wasn’t reporting to anyone in this room. He didn’t have to care what they thought of him or anything else, but the looks made him uncomfortable anyway. He shifted his grip on his bag uneasily and then someone else came into the room.

"What's going on?" asked the newcomer. Glad for the distraction, Ray focused on the new person, a short, dark haired man in his early twenties. He came straight up to Ray and said, "Oh, hey, I guess you must be Senior Airman Toro?"

As the other man spoke, Ray took in the Sentinel patch on his collar and the nameplate which identified him as Iero, and was relieved to be able to fall back on familiar protocols. He stood stiffly to attention and said, "Yes sir, Senior Airman Toro, reporting as ordered."

"Um... okay," Iero answered, looking uncertain. "Cool." He was nervous – visibly nervous, but Ray could also feel it, the way he could always feel a compatible Sentinel’s strong emotions. Iero was practically vibrating with energy but seemed unsure what to do. Ray waited patiently. It wasn't his place to give his Sentinel any sort of prompt. Eventually, Iero said, "So, do you want to... I mean, let’s get your stuff unpacked.”

“Yes, sir," answered Ray, and he followed Iero as he led the way back down the hallway he'd appeared from.

Iero stopped in front of a door which was labelled with his name and said, "Uh, they said we were supposed to share, so, I guess..."

"Yes, sir," Ray said after Iero trailed off. He'd expected that they would share a room. He wasn't thrilled about it, but there was no point complaining.

"Right," Iero finished, and pushed the door open. "I've already made up the bed on the right and everything, are you okay to take the one on the left?"

"Yes, sir," Ray answered, wondering what Iero would have said if he'd actually asked to swap.

"Awesome," said Iero. "Um. I guess you want to unpack. I'm trying to get a head start on some reading, so... I'll be here, I guess." He sat down at the desk at the foot of his bed and patted a thick textbook. Ray waited for some other instruction, but when none was forthcoming, he started to unpack his bag. He took out his uniforms, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was a pointless endeavour, really. Iero was a Sentinel. If Ray had been unpacking his bags on the other side of the building, he would probably still be able to hear. But that wasn’t the point. Guides were supposed to be unobtrusive.

Unpacking took him fifteen minutes, and once he was finished Ray wondered what he should do next. He didn’t want to leave the room without Iero’s permission, but he didn’t want to distract the Sentinel from his studies, either, and he didn’t quite dare disturb him to ask what he should do. Ray stood and dithered for a few minutes until Iero seemed to remember him and looked up from his book.

“You’re all unpacked?” he asked. “That was fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iero looked uncomfortable, and Ray wondered if he’d done something wrong. He hoped not, not this soon, but Iero didn’t say what was bothering him, and that might be worse. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Right. Good.” Iero looked uneasily at Ray as though he was waiting for something, and Ray realised that he was going to have to prompt him into giving some sort of order.

“Do you require anything, sir? Or should I leave you to study?”

Iero looked back at his textbook and sighed. "Yeah, I should do some more... do you have everything you need? Oh, you don't have sheets for your bed. They only issued me with one set."

"Yes, sir," Ray agreed.

"Will you be able to get some at this time of night?" Iero asked.

"Probably not, sir," Ray answered, wondering why Iero was so concerned. He'd known when he'd been given his orders that he wouldn't have time to sort out bed linen. He'd known better than to complain about it. One night on a bare mattress wouldn't kill him. Iero still looked worried, so he said, "It's not a problem, sir."

Iero was clearly not convinced, but he only said, "Well, I guess... I'm going to read some more. I guess you should do... whatever you need to do. Or just hang out, or whatever."

Ray nodded and said "Yes, sir," and when Iero turned back to his desk without formally dismissing him, Ray dithered for a minute before figuring that Iero expected him to just... leave. He went back out to the common room, and joined a few of the other men watching television. He looked around the room warily. A few people were standing around and talking quietly. Some of the other men in the room were reading or writing letters, but most were sitting in front of the TV. A couple looked over at Ray when he sat down, but no one said anything to him. Ray slowly felt himself relax. He didn’t have to answer to anyone in the room, he was out here on his Sentinel’s orders – sort of – and there wasn’t anything else he was supposed to be doing. No one was going to come and yell at him for watching TV because he had nothing better to do. Major Stephens would have expected Ray to find something better to do, but he wasn’t assigned to Stephens anymore.

Later on, when Ray went back to Iero’s room to get ready for bed, Iero was clearly still concerned about the bedding situation. Ray found him looking from one bed to the other with a frown, and wondered whether it would be out of line to say again that it wasn’t really a problem. It wasn’t his place, after all, to tell Iero what he should and shouldn’t worry about.

“Maybe we...” Iero started, before cutting himself off. “No. Okay, how about this...” He pulled the top blanket from his bed and dumped it on top of Ray’s. “I’ve only got the one pillow, but I guess...”

“You don’t have to do that, sir,” said Ray.

“Of course I do. It’s my job, right? I mean, really, they should have thought ahead enough to realise you’d need sheets, but they didn’t, so...”

Ray was stumped for anything to say in response to that. Once Iero had been in the Air Force for a bit longer, he’d learn that this sort of thing happened. Sometimes there were oversights or things just didn’t quite work out, and no one really cared. Especially not for Guides. It was just something you had to cope with. Iero didn’t finish his sentence, anyway, just shrugged and wandered into the bathroom, so Ray took his duffle bag from the closet and wadded it up to use as a pillow, and got changed for bed while Iero was out of the room.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he’d slept in much worse conditions. Ray lay awake for an hour or two, straining his ears to hear if Iero was troubled by the cold, if he was moving around or seemed restless, but there was no noise from the other bed and eventually Ray drifted off to sleep.

**********

Frank had never been much of an early riser, but boot camp had got him working on a different schedule, and he was actually awake a few minutes before five. He lay in his bed, enjoying the luxury of letting himself wake up slowly, and watching Toro’s sleeping form in the bed on the other side of the room.

The Guide was different to what he’d expected. Frank wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, exactly, but Toro wasn’t it. The first thing Frank had noticed about him were his glasses, a pair of those huge, hideously ugly glasses they made trainees wear in boot camp. He wasn’t sure why Toro was still wearing them, when he had to be well past basic training. The second thing Frank had noticed was... well, not much. If anything, he’d noticed just how completely Toro blended into the background, how little he stood out. Maybe that was what had surprised Frank so much; Captain Boyd had talked about Toro like he was either a violent criminal or an unruly child. 

After a few minutes pondering the situation, Frank started to hear the rest of the flight waking up, and he pushed himself out of bed and started pulling on sweats for Physical Training. Toro stirred as Frank shuffled around the room, and he gave the sergeant a small wave.

“Good morning!” he said cheerily. He winced at himself, knowing that he sounded like the kind of incredibly annoying morning person he used to hate before the Air Force. Frank knew he was just nervous, overcompensating because he was a bit worried that Toro maybe didn’t like him very much. He just had to try to act like less of an idiot.

Toro grabbed his own uniform and went into the bathroom to change. Frank wondered if he should have done that too. After boot camp Frank didn’t really have any hang-ups about getting changed while someone else was in the room – well, not that he’d ever really had hang-ups about it even before that. But Toro might not be okay with it. He reminded himself to be more considerate next time. He took the blanket which Toro had left on his bed and started remaking his own bed. He was half done when Toro came out of the bathroom.

“I can do that, sir, you don’t have to,” he said at once.

“It’s okay,” Frank answered, “I’ve got it.”

“But-“ Toro cut himself off abruptly, and Frank looked around, wondering what had caused him to go quiet so suddenly. Nothing, as far as Frank could tell. Toro was just standing there, looking uncomfortable and slowly turning a dull red. Frank could hear his heart racing and smell his sweat, but couldn’t even begin to figure out what he was reacting to. He turned back to the bed and smoothed the covers down.

“It’s done now, anyway,” he said awkwardly, and went on to tidy up the rest of the room. Toro followed suit in silence, and by the time the rest of the flight were lining up to go to PT, the room was spotless. Frank headed out to join the others and Toro took up position just behind him in the formation. The group started filing out of the room and Frank glanced over his shoulder at Toro, who looked calm and focused but twitched when he met Frank’s eyes. 

They went for a run on one of the tracks around the base. It was a nice day for it, sunny but still cool, and Frank enjoyed the chance to see more of the place he’d be living for at least the next three months. It seemed pretty decent. An hour later they returned to the dorm, with fifteen minutes to get showered and dressed for the day. Frank raced through his shower and when he came out, Toro met him in the bedroom.

“There’s a message, sir,” he said, holding out a slip of paper. Frank took it and read it quickly.

“We’re supposed to meet with this G-TAC guy tomorrow,” Frank said, in case Toro hadn’t read the message already. “At five.”

“Yes, sir,” said Toro, and then he went quiet again. Frank glanced at him and saw that his face was carefully neutral.

“Do you know what the meeting’s going to be about?” Frank asked. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Toro’s face.

“Lieutenant Soler probably just wants to meet us, sir. Er, you. I’ve met him already.”

“You have?”

“Uh... yes. Sir. He’s been my liaison since I was stationed here a year ago.” 

“Oh, right.” That made sense. “So, what’s he like?”

Toro looked trapped. “He’s...” The Guide trailed off, and Frank wondered what he was so reluctant to say. Maybe this Soler guy was actually a giant jerk and Toro just didn’t feel comfortable saying so.

“Never mind,” said Frank. He wasn’t sure why Toro didn’t make something up if he didn’t want to say what he really thought, but it didn’t matter, he’d find out tomorrow anyway. “So we don’t need to... I don’t know, do anything before then?”

Toro thought about it and shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. He might want to talk about your expectations. Er, for me. To make sure we’ve discussed it.”

“Huh,” said Frank. _Sounds stupid_ , he kept himself from saying. “What if he’s not... I dunno, not happy with how things are going? Or something?” 

He hadn’t expected that question to make Toro anxious, but his heart rate shot up. “He might reassign me,” Toro said. 

“You think?” Frank wondered. “I got the impression they didn’t really want to put us together, and the brass forced their hand. I didn’t think they’d be able to split us up again so soon.”

Ray was quiet for a minute or two. “Maybe not, sir,” he said eventually. “But if they could show there was a problem, they might be able to.”

That made sense. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that, then,” said Frank. He looked towards the doorway, where he could hear people bustling around. 

“We’d better hurry up, I guess, if you want to shower before breakfast.”

Toro nodded. “I’m to accompany you to the dining hall, sir?” he asked.

Frank felt like scratching his head. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, unless you need to be somewhere else.”

“No, sir. I’m your Guide. My time is at your disposal.”

“Right,” said Frank, still confused, but at least Toro seemed satisfied with Frank’s answer. “Okay, I’m gonna go organise my books.” He hurried to get them together and Toro went to the bathroom.

The dining hall wasn’t too far away, and the food looked a hell of a lot more appealing than the crap they’d been fed in boot camp. Still no vegetarian options, but Frank hadn’t expected any. He couldn’t wait for the day he got his own quarters with a kitchenette and was able to cook for himself. Frank grabbed a tray and got in line, and Toro stood behind him, shifting his weight from one foot to another and opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn’t make himself do it.

“What?” Frank asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can get your breakfast, sir, if you tell me what you want.”

“Uh... no, thanks. I’ve got it.” Frank gripped his tray tighter and pressed his lips together. He probably should have said yes. Boyd would accuse him of letting Toro fall into bad habits or something. He just wasn’t keen on the idea of being waited on. He didn’t see why that should make him a failure as a Sentinel, although at Sentinel School they had seemed to think it did. The other Sentinels there had been happy enough to get the Guides there to do everything they couldn’t be bothered doing themselves. By the end of the six weeks, that was quite a lot. But Frank had grown up being the kid who was always sick and who had an overworked single mother – when he was capable of doing something for himself, it didn’t occur to him not to do it. 

Frank filled his plate and tried to ignore Toro, who was doing the same thing next to him and shooting anxious glances at Frank every time he added something to his own plate. Frank looked around for a good place to sit, eventually heading up the dining hall and putting his tray down on a table with a couple of guys he’d spoken with a bit during PT. He’d nearly forgotten about Toro, but when he thought to look around, he saw him placing his tray down on the next table over. Well, whatever. Frank wasn’t going to force Toro to sit with him if he didn’t want to.

The food was pretty good, for cafeteria food, and Frank was hungry. He cleaned his plate in less than five minutes and then looked up to see that the others at the table were halfway through their meals and talking about... something. Frank flushed a little, but one of the older men at the table, a Sergeant Baker, gave him a knowing look and said, “Just out of boot camp, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank answered with a rueful grin. It was true, after two months of basic training he could eat a meal in two minutes, shower in two minutes, and assemble an M16 in two minutes. “The habit sort of sticks.”

“I remember,” Baker chuckled, and that got everyone at the table sharing stories from their own time in basic, from the Senior Airman whose flight had been made to drill with spirit sticks instead of rifles, to the Airman First Class who had eaten two of everything at lunch the day they’d done the tear gas chamber, to the Airman who had gone through with a Guide who had, in his words, ‘freaked out every time they made him hold a gun’.

It wasn’t that long before they were all finished and heading outside for more training. There was a couple of hours of drill, which sucked ass. Frank went through the motions rather mechanically, happy not to get bellowed at more than a couple of times. Toro stood in the formation next to him, and the trainers ignored him although he was no better than Frank. Frank supposed it was fair enough; Toro wasn’t actually part of the class, after all.

After that was something called the confidence course, which Frank put in a category along with many other little Air Force hoops he had to try to jump through, which he liked to call ‘fuck you, short people’. It was basically an obstacle course, although slightly different to the one he’d done in boot camp, and most of it happened at least five feet off the ground. If you fell off you had to climb back up on the part you’d fallen from, and some points Frank could barely reach. Toro didn’t participate but stayed on the ground, the lucky bastard, following Frank around the course like a spotter. It was a little reassuring to know someone was there to stop him splitting his skull open, Frank supposed.

Lunch followed, and academic classes came after that. The first was an orientation lecture, held in a massive lecture theatre. Frank found a seat in the second row because sitting in the back when the front rows weren’t full wasn’t looked on favourably by the instructors. He pulled the desk across and put his notebook down, and then realised Toro was having some sort of crisis of indecision in the aisle, looking at the seat next to Frank and then up at the back of the room and back again. 

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, puzzled.

“Where-” Toro began, pausing and seeming to force himself to go on. “Where should I sit, sir?”

“Here?” Frank suggested. Why wouldn’t the Guide sit next to him? He wouldn’t be much use to Frank otherwise. Was there some sort of rule that said Guides were supposed to sit in the back? If there was, it didn’t seem very practical. More G-TAC bullshit, probably.

Once he’d given the word, though, Toro took the seat next to Frank without hesitating, and Frank put it out of his mind, uncapping his pen and getting ready to take notes. Toro didn’t have pen or paper with him, and Frank thought he was probably going to get pretty bored, but he didn’t really have time to think about it too much.

**********

Ray had been dreading the meeting with Lieutenant Soler for two days. He was a jerk, and Ray was pretty sure the liaison hated him. Or maybe just all Guides, it was hard to tell. It had been awkward when Iero had asked what he was like; Ray couldn’t criticise the man to his Sentinel, and even if he’d been able to think of something positive to say about him, he had no business assessing the competence of a superior and a G-TAC worker. Ray wasn’t stupid, he could recognise a trap when he saw one. Lucky for him Iero hadn’t pushed it and let the subject drop when Ray didn’t answer.

Soler called them into his office and told Iero to take a seat. Ray stood behind Iero’s chair and waited. Soler pulled out a file straight away, took out a stack of forms and started talking about scheduling. He handed one of the forms to Iero, who looked around the room, wide-eyed. It wasn’t until he turned nearly all the way around that Ray realised the Sentinel was looking for him. He looked puzzled for a second, but smoothed his expression out after that and said, “Sit down.”

So Ray sat in the chair next to Iero and didn’t let himself look at Soler, even though he wanted to check if the liaison looked annoyed or disapproving. If he did, his mood wouldn’t be improved by Ray eyeballing him. 

“It’s important to establish firm boundaries and expectations at the outset of any new Sentinel-Guide relationship,” Soler said. “Have you discussed this with Guide Toro yet, Iero?”

“Not yet, sir,” Iero answered. His demeanour was different to the brash, flippant attitude Ray had become used to; he was acting a little more restrained. 

“Good, well, we can sort that all out now, then.” Soler folded his hands together on the desk. “Have there been any problems so far?”

“No, sir,” said Iero, and Ray was impressed. He could barely hear the implied ‘it’s only been two days, dumbass’. If he hadn’t got to know Iero a little bit throughout those two days, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all. 

“Very good. Then let’s see... what tasks do you want Guide Toro to complete in the mornings?”

They compiled a list of housekeeping tasks Ray was supposed to attend to, and one of them was making Iero’s bed, much to Ray’s consternation. What did that mean? Iero didn’t object to the inclusion, so he might have changed his mind about not wanting Ray to make his bed, or he might just not want to argue with Soler about whether or not it belonged on the list. Whatever the reason, it meant that Ray was going to have to figure out which contradictory order to follow and how to avoid landing in the shit for his inevitable disobedience.

Things went on like that for a while, Soler going through Iero’s daily schedule and talking about what Ray was supposed to be doing every second of the day, and writing it down on a sheet divided into thirty minute sections. They worked out between them when Ray was supposed to get up, when he was meant to clean, and when he could use the bathroom. They could have done everything without Ray being present at all, but he knew why he was being made to attend the meeting. It was another way for G-TAC to impress on him the total control they held over his life, make sure he didn’t start getting the idea he could make his own decisions. It was a shame; the past day had been pretty relaxed, but Ray imagined that was going to change now.

“Are you going to need Toro to accompany you to classes indoors?” Soler asked.

Iero seemed unsure. “I don’t really know... will I, sir?” he asked.

“Well, the academics aren’t going to require you to use your senses, and the classrooms are a controlled environment, so it depends on your comfort level and your individual needs,” Soler answered. It was a tactful way of saying Iero shouldn’t need a Guide with him unless his control was far weaker than the average Sentinel’s.

Iero seemed to interpret Soler’s statement the same way that Ray did, and said, “I see. I don’t think I will, sir.”

“That’s fine. In that case, I’ve been asked to make Toro available for general duty during those hours,” Soler replied. Ray hid a grimace. General duty was general maintenance and cleaning work. It was work that everyone in the Air Force performed from time to time, when they were between assignments or waiting for orders. But Soler made it sound like he’d be stuck doing general duty for the entire duration of Iero’s officer training, three months, and that was unusual. The Air Force didn’t generally assign busy work if its personnel could be learning something or doing something useful. Ray debated asking about taking one of the mechanics courses offered – not right then, he wasn’t a fool, but soon. He’d have to wait and see.

Then Soler moved on to issues of discipline, and suggested what he thought Ray should be allowed to do without asking permission (almost nothing), what he thought Ray should have to get permission to do (most things), and what he thought Ray should never be allowed to do ever, under any circumstances (everything else).

“I realise you’re busy, and it’s tiresome to have to oversee your Guide’s behaviour in such detail,” said Soler in his smarmy obnoxious voice, “but it’s what I recommend for this first stage. If you can maintain it for a week or two, I expect Guide Toro will be sufficiently settled to regulate himself.”

Super. After two weeks of Iero watching his every move, Soler thought Ray would be broken enough to keep following the rules of his own accord. The sad part was he was probably right.

“Don’t you agree, Guide Toro?” Soler asked.

Ray was still thinking about whether or not he even needed Iero looking over his shoulder to make sure he did everything G-TAC’s way, so he automatically replied, “Yes, sir,” and then realised he didn’t actually know what Soler was talking about. He figured it didn’t really matter, though. ‘Yes’ was obviously the right answer, and Soler wasn’t interested in hearing what Ray actually thought. The more he went along with the discussion, the sooner it might be over.

“There is likely to be some initial resistance to your authority, so you’ll need to deal with that promptly when it comes up. I generally recommend starting with milder punishments – restricting privileges, additional duties, that sort of thing – and escalating if the behaviour isn’t corrected. In this case...” Here Soler looked over at Ray severely. “I suggest being quite firm from the outset.”

“Right,” said Iero. He spoke casually, but Ray sensed that he was uneasy about something. “Meaning what, sir?”

Soler pulled out a small booklet which he handed over to Iero. Ray glanced over and saw that the cover said ‘Guide Discipline’ in capital letters, but he didn’t want to look at it too obviously. Iero opened the slim volume and flipped through it.

“You can find some suggestions in there, and some guidance as to what’s safe,” Soler explained. “Ration restriction, for example – denying a Guide food for more than a day or two will inevitably cause a decline in their performance, so you should keep that in mind. The same goes for sleep deprivation. There’s a description of several effective stress positions. If physical punishment is warranted...” Soler looked over at Ray, “...then you should refer to this to avoid permanent damage.” 

Ray tried to keep still in his seat, but it was difficult. Not just because the topic of the discussion was so unpleasant, but because Iero seemed to be becoming increasingly pissed off about something, and that was unnerving. It was Ray who would end up being the target of Iero’s anger if he decided he needed to take it out on someone.

“Okay,” said Iero, and his voice now sounded decidedly strained. “Physical punishment...” He turned a couple of pages in the booklet. “So if... Toro...” He stumbled over Ray’s name, and it was actually a little reassuring to see that Iero was uncomfortable talking about him like he wasn’t there. “Says something insubordinate, or, like, leaves a mark on the bathroom counter or whatever, I’m supposed to... beat him? Because that’s completely proportionate, of course.” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice; there was no way Soler would miss it. Ray felt a strong desire to shake Iero by the shoulders; going against G-TAC like that never ended well.

“With most Guides, I would recommend that as a last resort, but Guide Toro is a special case,” Soler said mildly. “If you’re uncomfortable with this assignment, Iero, we can find another Guide and reassign Toro to a different Sentinel. Is that what you’d prefer?”

Ray wasn’t sure what he should hope for. If Iero decided he didn’t want Ray as his Guide, he’d be sent somewhere else and it might turn out to be better. He might not have to worry about Soler’s threat if the assignment was cut short now – he didn’t think the liaison could blame him if Iero wanted to back out at this point. On the other hand, Iero had been okay so far. That might change, but right now things were pretty good, aside from this horrible meeting.

“Someone who’ll handle it according to your recommendations, sir?” Iero asked. Soler nodded, and Ray held his breath. “I can manage,” Iero said, straightening in his chair. “I’d like to continue this assignment, if you agree.”

Soler studied Iero’s face for a few minutes, then nodded. “I think the experience will do you good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear you want to make the attempt.”

They were dismissed shortly after that. Ray followed Iero back to the dorm, carefully walking just behind him, sticking exactly to protocol.

“What a complete dick!” Iero exploded as soon as they were some distance away. Ray blinked at him in shock. Iero had spat the words out with such force that Ray figured he had to have been holding them in for a while. He wasn’t sure who Iero was referring to. Soler was the obvious choice, but in Ray’s experience, while Sentinels might dislike G-TAC personnel, they never ever said as much to their Guides.

“I mean, the way he had us _sit there_ and talk about how I’m supposed to _hit you_ if you don’t do every damn thing the way he says... Jesus fuck, how did he even get that job?”

Ray barely restrained himself from saying that that was exactly how he’d got the job. In fact, it was pretty much a requirement.

“I mean...” Iero seemed to slow down a bit, and glanced back at Ray. He slowed his steps so that they wound up side by side. Ray hesitated, then fell into step next to the Sentinel; it was obviously what he’d intended. “I don’t give a shit about any of that stuff. Soler can suck my dick; I don’t care what he says. We’re not doing that.”

Ray wasn’t sure how to react to that. Experience and gut instinct said that it was either a test, in which case he needed to tread very carefully, or the idea of having to invest so much effort into keeping tabs on his Guide was abhorrent to Iero, in which case he still needed to be careful so that when Soler eventually checked up on them, he couldn’t be pulled up on anything. But Iero’s behaviour and his words suggested that he had some serious philosophical differences with G-TAC’s methods; an intriguing possibility, but not one that Ray was willing to put much faith in yet.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Iero added, and he was speaking a bit calmer now, quieter but even more sincere. He glanced at Ray and looked away again quickly. “I mean, I don’t see why we need all that stuff. I just have to do my job and you do yours, it’s simple, right?” he added a bit too quickly. 

Ray nodded, thinking that he almost sort of understood. Iero was telling Ray not to force him to do anything he didn’t want to have to do, and Ray could get behind that. “Yes, sir,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Iero made Ray uneasy. Not uneasy like Major Stephens had, where he was constantly on edge because it was just impossible to keep up to his standards all the time. Not uneasy like he was with Lieutenant Connell, where even before everything went so spectacularly bad, there had been times when Ray had been able to pick up on a feeling around him that was just _wrong_. It was just that Iero was too hard to predict.

That definitely didn’t help Ray figure out the whole bed-making issue. Iero had said not to; Soler expected that he would. He couldn’t satisfy both of them, and disappointing either could potentially land him in a heap of shit. Even if Iero didn’t care whether Ray followed his schedule or not, Soler definitely would.

The next morning when Ray got up he went through the other tasks while putting off the whole bed-making issue, hoping the whole problem resolved itself somehow. Iero came in from the bathroom while Ray was straightening up the closet, and said “What are you doing?”

“Sir?” Ray asked, heart racing. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but if Iero decided he was snooping or stealing, Ray would never convince him otherwise. “0710,” he said plaintively. “Keep closets in order?”

Iero looked confused for a short moment. “You mean that stupid schedule Soler made us write?” he said incredulously. “You’re actually going to follow it?”

Ray hesitated, unsure what to say. Of course he was going to follow it – why would Iero think otherwise? 

“We can just tell Soler you did it, can’t we?” Iero asked. “I’d rather – it’s just that everyone else in the flight has to keep up their own quarters on top of everything else, I don’t want to be different. You know?” He looked at Ray hopefully, and there was really nothing he could do but nod and agree. Every deviation from the schedule raised the likelihood that Soler would find out, and if Iero didn’t want to stand out from the rest of the flight he wouldn’t be pretending very hard that Ray was doing all the chores. This had disaster written all over it.

Still, aside from his annoying ability to give Ray heart failure, Iero turned out to be alright. As a couple of days passed and he failed to turn into a raving asshole, Ray decided to try an experiment. He wanted to write a letter to his mother. He hadn’t been able to do that for a while; Stephens had treated letter writing as a privilege which he’d rarely felt Ray deserved. Ray was pretty sure Iero wouldn’t say no; in fact, he would have just written the damn letter and kept it to himself, since Iero wasn’t troubling to monitor his activities very closely, but Ray didn’t have a pen or notepaper to use. He could have taken some from Iero’s desk, but the Sentinel would notice. More importantly, Ray didn’t have any stamps, and he had no money of his own to buy such things.

The workload for Officer Training was gruelling, both mentally and physically, and Ray knew that Iero wouldn’t have a lot of time to spare for his trivial concerns. The most likely time to get him alone was after dinner when he was studying in his room, but Ray didn’t want to interrupt Iero while he was studying. He didn’t want to get in the way of Iero getting his work done, and anyway, if he did it would hardly make Iero feel inclined to grant Ray’s request. With that in mind, Ray followed on Iero’s heels as he went back to the dorm after dinner and tried to get his attention before he got his books out.

“What’s up, Toro?” Iero asked, as Ray hovered in the door.

“Uh...” Ray tried to pull himself together and present himself as the kind of semi-intelligent adult who was capable of using the items he was about to ask for. “Sir, I would like to make a request.”

“Oh... really?” Iero seemed at first disbelieving, and then pleased. He took a step towards Ray, who instinctively edged backwards. Iero instantly retreated and said, “What is it?”

“I would like to send a letter to my mother.”

“Oh. Okay.” For some reason, Ray’s request had made Iero seem – sad. Or somehow unhappy. Ray wasn’t sure; he might have been able to get a better sense of Iero’s emotions if they’d been working together longer, but they hadn’t even needed to form a working link yet. 

“You know you don’t have to ask, right?” Iero said anxiously. “I’m not going to stop you writing a letter to your mom. I mean, she’s your mom.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray answered. At least Iero hadn’t sneered and said he might let Ray write a letter in a week, if he behaved. And it didn’t seem like he’d refuse Ray a sheet of paper and a stamp, either. “I’ll need paper, to write the letter on. And an envelope,” he added quickly. He’d nearly forgotten.

“Okay,” said Iero. “I’m sure I’ve got some around here somewhere, let me have a look.” He rummaged around in the drawers of his desk, opening the top one and then closing it quickly, spending more time looking through the second and finally finding what he was looking for in the third.

“And, uh, I’ll need to buy a stamp, sir,” Ray finished.

“A stamp?” Iero asked. “Sure. Of course. You can buy a stamp. Like... you don’t have to get my permission to buy a stamp, do you?”

It wasn’t Iero’s permission that was the actual issue, but it looked like Ray was going to have to spell that out. “No, sir,” he said. “It’s thirty cents, sir. For a stamp.”

“Oh, right.” Iero looked at him, and Ray felt humiliated. Admitting that he didn’t have thirty cents to his name to spend on a postage stamp... well, it wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to him, but it was the most recent, and it wasn’t really getting any easier to deal with being treated like a child who couldn’t be trusted with their own allowance.

“That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Iero said, going back to the desk. Oh, great, Ray thought. Ask him what? Iero pulled up a stack of papers and unearthed a book of stamps underneath them. He handed the book to Ray, who went to rip out the one stamp he needed.

“No, keep them all,” Iero said. “In case you want to write more letters.” He was flicking through the papers he’d taken from the desk, and said, “What do you want me to do with your pay?”

Ray stared at Iero, trying to arrange the words in a way that made sense. “Sir?”

“My paycheck came, and they’ve tacked your pay on with mine,” Iero said. “So what do you want me to do with it?”

Iero seemed to think that should clear things up, but Ray was no less confused than he had been before. “Well...” Iero had asked him a question, so Ray wasn’t doing anything wrong by answering it, was he? “They do that so you can cover any expenses you have as a result of having a Guide,” he said, hoping that Iero didn’t decide to interpret that as an accusation of stupidity.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have any expenses.”

Ray hmmed and held up the stamps, and Iero said, “Oh, pfft. Half a dozen stamps don’t count.” He flicked the paycheck between his fingers. “Do you want me to give you the money by cash or check?” he asked.

Ray wished Iero hadn’t said that. He didn’t want to appear like he was trying to manipulate his Sentinel into giving him money. Eventually, he said, “You don’t have to, sir.”

“I know, but I’m going to, so what’ll it be?”

Well, that was pretty definitive, and Ray was almost relieved to give in. “Check,” he said. 

Iero nodded. “Done!” he said, and he actually sat down right then at the desk and got out his checkbook. He seemed a lot happier and handed the check over with a flourish. Ray took it with slightly unsteady fingers. Iero hadn’t even kept anything back to pay for the stamps he’d given Ray. He couldn’t decide whether to mention it or not. He normally would, but knowing Iero he’d probably take it to mean that Ray thought he was petty or stingy or something.

“I’ve got to get to work,” Iero said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, sir,” said Ray. Iero nodded and sat at the desk. Ray left the room. He’d learned not to wait for Iero to dismiss him properly; he never did. He went to the common room and found a spot where he could sit and write his letter.

*********

Almost a week later, Frank received a letter. Actually, the letter wasn’t for him. It was addressed to Toro, but it still got passed to Frank during mail call. Toro was in the shower at the time so it was probably lucky that the letter was given to Frank and Toro didn’t miss out entirely.

Frank took the letter and went back to his room. The shower had stopped; he could hear the quiet on the other side of the bathroom door. He went over to knock on the door and was about to call out when he heard the sound of Toro’s heart pounding.

Frank wondered what had happened. Toro had been fine a second ago. Now, he was suddenly panicking. Frank could hear his breathing now, harsh and ragged. “Toro?” he called. “Is everything okay?”

Toro didn’t answer. Maybe he’d seen a spider or something. Frank could totally identify with that. If Toro was being menaced by a giant tarantula, it was probably Frank’s duty as his commanding officer to go in there and squish it, no matter how completely terrifying it might be. Frank didn’t like the idea very much, but if he did save Toro from a bloodthirsty spider, Toro might like him a bit more.

Frank opened the bathroom door slowly, calling out as he did so, “Toro? What’s wrong?”

Toro’s heart rate actually got faster as the door opened, and Frank started to become really concerned. Maybe he was having some kind of medical problem. He saw Toro standing next to the shower, a towel around his waist. He took a few steps back as Frank edged into the doorway, slowly and darting glances around just in case there really was a spider lurking in a corner somewhere.

“What’s wrong?” Frank repeated. He concluded that he’d been wrong about his spider theory.

Toro was hunched over, his shoulders curled inwards protectively and his arms crossed in front of him. Frank stepped forwards, reaching out with one hand, but Toro flinched away violently and said, “Don’t touch me!”

Frank drew backwards, startled. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say, but he couldn’t. It was clear that by staying in the room he was only making Toro more upset.

“Sorry,” he said, “Sorry. I’m gonna... go...” He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him, listening and waiting to see if Toro would calm down or if he was going to hyperventilate or pass out or something.

Frank busied himself tidying up the room and getting everything ready for the day. Minutes passed and he started to feel anxious. PT would be starting soon and he couldn’t be late, but he didn’t want to go until he’d made sure Toro would be alright. He could still hear the other man’s heartbeat. It had slowed, but it was still faster than normal.

Finally, the bathroom door cracked open. Toro stepped out, fully dressed and composed, and Frank was relieved. He tried not to show how much, tried to play it cool. He put on a reassuring smile, but Toro just stared blankly back. He was standing as stiff and straight as a flagpole.

“I apologise for my poor conduct, sir,” Toro said, looking at a point just beside Frank’s ear. “It won’t happen again.”

“Won’t hap- Jesus Christ, Toro, are you okay?” Frank asked.

Toro blinked. “Yes, sir, perfectly okay.” His heartbeat now sounded like he’d just come back from a short jog rather than a desperate sprint for his life. Still, Frank wasn’t quite convinced that ‘perfectly okay’ was an accurate description. “I will accept whatever discipline you wish to impose.”

“Whatever... no! Are you serious?” A stupid question, Frank realised, as Toro just looked confused. Of course he was fucking serious. “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I don’t understand what... I guess it’s not my business, but... I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Now Toro seemed worried. He shook his head and looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide what.

Eventually, Frank figured Toro wasn’t going to say anything, so he changed the subject. “Anyway,” he said, “I was just knocking to tell you that you got a letter. From your mom, I think.”

“Yes, sir,” Toro said. He didn’t look happy about it, just... wary. Frank wondered if he’d misunderstood something about their relationship. Writing that letter was the one thing that Toro had asked him for, so Frank had figured it must be important to him, that he was close to his mother. But he didn’t seem all that pleased that she’d written back. Maybe there was some strain on the relationship that Frank didn’t know about.

Frank picked the letter up and held it out to Toro, who watched it like it was about to catch fire. “Don’t you want it?” Frank asked plaintively. He wasn’t going to force Toro to read it if he didn’t want to, but if he could just take the damn thing, Frank would feel a bit less like an idiot.

Toro took a few seconds to reply this time. “Yes, sir,” he said at last, grudgingly, like Frank was forcing the words out of him.

“Well... okay.” Frank would have gone up to him and put the envelope right into his hand, but after the bathroom he didn’t want to get into Toro’s personal space. “I’ll just leave it on your bed.”

He put the letter down and went to leave the room. Toro hadn’t moved, but as Frank reached the door he heard the other man say, softly, “Thank you, sir.”

The words ‘call me Frank’ were on the tip of Frank’s tongue, but he stopped short of saying them. He was starting to think that Toro wouldn’t see the offer as sincere, but rather perceive it as some kind of trick. He’d tried not to let his feelings be hurt by Toro’s wariness, his distrust, but they had been nonetheless. Frank was starting to realise now that maybe he had plenty of reason to be distrustful. He’d have to do more than just tell Toro that he was a nice guy. He’d have to prove it. 

***********

Ray picked the letter up off the bed and held it carefully. When Iero had showed him the letter, he’d been sure he was about to tear it up, or at least put it somewhere out of reach. After Ray had snapped at him in the bathroom, he’d been expecting the Sentinel to punish him, and showing Ray the letter and then taking it away would have been perfect.

He hadn’t done that, though. Ray tore the envelope open. He hadn’t expected his mother to write back so quickly.

‘Dear Raymond,’ the letter started.

‘It was lovely to hear from you. I was starting to think you’d forgotten where we live...’

Ray read the whole letter, catching up on months of news from home. It was a long letter, more than three pages, and as soon as Ray had finished it he went back and read it again. The letter awakened a wave of homesickness in him, stronger than he’d felt in years. Maybe it had been better when Major Stephens had kept a tight control on his mail. There wasn’t anything Ray could do to make missing his family easier. Maybe he could write and ask his mom to send him some photos. He was pretty sure Iero wouldn’t mind.

After spending so much time reading and re-reading his letter, Ray had to hurry to accompany Iero to hand-to-hand combat training. He was thankful that, once again, the trainees were paired up with Officer Training upperclassmen – officer candidates who were a month ahead of Iero’s flight in the program - and he wasn’t expected to partner Iero or anything. He could only imagine how awkward that would be. 

After lunch, Iero went off to his academic classes and Ray reported for general duty. He spent an hour wiping down tables in the dining hall, and after that he was sent to clean desks in one of the classrooms. It was boring work, and to add insult to injury the desks were pretty clean already. Ray wondered why they didn’t just make him dig holes and fill them in again; it would have made their point just as well.

He was just finishing with the last desk when the door opened and a group of officer trainees started filing in. Ray grabbed his rags and cleaner and walked towards the door. He stopped abruptly when he met Iero coming the other way. Iero blinked up at him, looking startled and uncomfortable. His face went slightly pink and his eyes slipped away from Ray’s.

Iero slipped to the side and sat at one of the desks Ray had just cleaned. Ray continued on his way out of the room. He was sure he saw two of the officer trainees look at him and laugh as he was going out of the door. He wasn’t sure what had struck them as funny. That he was a Guide, maybe. Mundanes didn’t usually have much to do with them, and their first impression of Guides tended to be someone doing what Ray was doing – standing around behind a Sentinel, never appearing to do anything useful. No wonder Guides were a bit of a joke in the military. Ray was trained as an aircraft mechanic; he’d done the courses here and there, between his Guide duties, and he wasn’t bad at it, but G-TAC didn’t want to know about that. If he couldn’t do it and babysit his Sentinel at the same time, they didn’t care, and so neither did anyone else.

**********

Frank was useless for the rest of the day. He practically sleepwalked through his classes, and when he completely failed to hear a question that his instructor asked him, he wound up saddled with an extra essay about refuelling procedures, which sucked. Even then, Frank couldn’t get his mind off Toro long enough to think about anything else.

Why had they stuck him on general duty, when he was probably going to be assigned to Frank for at least the next three months? That would have been time enough for Toro to complete some training himself. It hadn’t occurred to him to say anything about it when he’d met with Soler, being too overwhelmed by everything else, but maybe he could. Maybe it was some kind of punishment for the lie they thought Toro had told, but Frank was pretty convinced that he’d been telling the truth all along. Maybe he could talk to Soler or Boyd, or both of them, show them the interview transcript and explain that the whole investigation had obviously been bungled.

Maybe he could get G-TAC to change their mind.

***********

As the Indoctrination Phase passed for Iero’s flight, the class moved on to Development, and that meant being issued with weapons and needing to re-qualify. It took place in mid-morning, and Ray noticed that Iero took his rifle up eagerly.

“You could probably ask for one too,” he suggested. “Get a little practice in?”

Ray blinked at him. “Won’t you be needing my help, sir?” he asked. 

“Huh?” Iero looked blank for a minute. Further down the range, a couple of other officer candidates began to fire and Ray twitched, ready to step in if it looked like the noise was causing Iero problems. “Oh,” Iero said, his expression clearing. “No, I think I’ll be fine.” Ray must have looked doubtful, because Iero smirked at him. “Watch. You’ll see.”

The range was outdoors, but with everyone firing together the noise was deafening and Ray was glad of his earplugs. Iero didn’t seem to notice the noise at all, emptying his magazine into the target and going back for another. When qualification was over and the targets were collected, Iero’s had a hole about two inches across sitting where the bullseye had been, and only a few stray bullets had gone outside that area. Ray was impressed; he’d noticed Iero’s small arms expert ribbon, but hadn’t taken much notice. If anything, it was unusual for a Sentinel not to make expert, but even for a Sentinel Iero’s marksmanship was above average.

Afterwards, Iero went off to academics and Ray spent the afternoon weeding the gardens around the dormitories. After that, there was laundry to get done before Iero ran out of uniforms, and when that was finished it was time for dinner. Ray found Iero outside the dining hall, standing with a couple of airmen he was friendly with, a pair of black framed glasses perched on his nose. He nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Toro?” Iero said, looking slightly alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

Iero’s friends moved towards the door, promising to see him inside, and Ray was glad for the relative privacy. “You’re wearing glasses,” he said stupidly. He waved a hand at Iero’s face, just in case he hadn’t noticed the glasses hooked over his ears.

“Yeah?” Iero looked puzzled.

“I just don’t... you’re a Sentinel,” Ray explained. He’d never known a Sentinel before who needed to wear glasses for anything. He’d never seen Iero wear them before; his vision had always seemed fine.

Iero just shrugged. “My eyes get tired,” he explained. “Especially if I’ve had my sight dialled up, like today at the range. It gets harder to focus on things that are closer, so I use glasses. It’s no big deal.”

Ray nodded and tried to settle down. If Iero said it wasn’t a big deal, he wasn’t going to make himself popular by insisting otherwise. It wasn’t easy though, and there was a part of Ray that insisted that if he were doing his job as Iero’s Guide, Iero wouldn’t need glasses to see. He should have known that even if shooting didn’t interfere with Iero’s hearing, his other senses might be affected. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked anxiously.

Iero shrugged. “I dunno, is there?” he asked, not sounding like he really expected Ray to have any suggestions.

Ray floundered for a bit. Of course, there were things he could do to help Iero, and he was the man’s Guide, so it was his job to tell him about them. He didn’t want to, though. The things he could do to help involved sitting near Iero and maybe holding his hand. In Ray’s experience, Air Force guys were way too invested in their masculinity to take that sort of suggestion well, and even if Iero went along with it, that would mean that Ray would have to, well... sit near him and maybe hold his hand. That wasn’t something he really wanted to do. Still, it was his job.

“Let’s just go get some food,” Iero said when Ray didn’t answer. Ray did so, but he kept thinking about the problem all through the meal.

Back in the dorm, Iero gathered his textbooks to study and Ray hovered in the doorway, knowing that he needed to stay nearby while Iero’s vision was still on the blink. Iero got settled at the desk and looked up at Ray, puzzled when he didn’t leave.

“It might help your eyes if I stay nearby,” Ray explained, hoping that Iero would go along with it and not ask questions or make excuses.

Iero just nodded and said, “Okay,” like he didn’t even care. He turned back to his textbook and read for a minute or two before looking up again. “So,” he said, “You’re just going to, like... stand there? For... however long?”

Ray was stumped for a response. There was only one chair in the room, and Iero was sitting in it. Besides, he had to stay nearby to have any sort of positive effect on Iero’s sight. “It’s my job,” he said at last, sort of helplessly.

Iero just stared at him blankly for a second. “There’s the bed...?” he suggested at last.

“Sit on the bed?” Ray asked, too surprised to keep the words in. He couldn’t sit on the bed. Or rather, he could, but he’d be twitchy the whole time, even knowing that the only person in a position to give him shit about it was Iero, and he wouldn’t. “I’ll just...” Ray trailed off and got down onto his knees.

“Fuck,” said Iero abruptly. “No.”

Ray flinched reflexively, even though he knew by now Iero wouldn’t do anything to him, even if he was pissed. But then Iero grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, and Ray thought maybe he’d got that wrong.

Iero had stood up from his chair, and he turned them both around and pushed Ray down onto it. Ray sat, not entirely sure what was going on. Iero apparently got him positioned to his liking and then sat on his lap, picking up his discarded textbook with a happy sigh.

“Uh...” Ray began, slightly disorientated.

“That’s better,” Iero said. He still sounded kind of mad, so Ray didn’t argue with him. Iero went back to taking notes from the textbook like everything was normal, even though he was sitting on Ray’s lap and Ray didn’t know what to do. In the end, Ray decided to just wait it out. This was really the best thing for Iero’s sight, anyway. He should have suggested it himself, but he’d been too much of a wimp.

Ray didn’t really know what to do with his hands. He grabbed the seat of the chair for a minute or two, and then Iero wobbled slightly, because he was so damn short his feet weren’t even touching the ground. Ray steadied him, and put one arm around Iero’s middle. It was weirdly intimate, and he instantly wanted to pull his hand away, but Iero slipped his own hand around and wrapped it around Ray’s. He’d let go of the textbook to do it, and it started to slide off his knee, so Ray grabbed it with his free hand. Suddenly, they were in some kind of strange embrace. Iero leaned back against his chest and Ray tried to calm down.

It wasn’t even as though Iero was doing anything to him, it was just the way he was so casual about the whole thing that was freaking Ray out. At the same time as he was flipping out, Ray knew that Iero’s contentment was having an influence on him, causing him to calm down and forget why he’d been so anxious. Guides and Sentinels had that effect on one another. Ray had never gone out of his way to piss people off or anything, but having people get mad at him had never been something he’d lost sleep over. It was different with Sentinels; he could _feel_ their feelings. He’d forgotten what that could be like if the Sentinel was feeling something other than furious.

It wasn’t all that interesting sitting there watching Iero read, but Iero must have noticed it when he started to get bored – the empathy thing did go both ways, after all – and he started talking to Ray about what he was reading, and making snippy comments about the things his lecturers had said. It made for a pretty entertaining commentary. Ray listened quietly for a while, giving monosyllabic replies to Iero’s ramblings, but as Iero became more random and ridiculous in his observations and Ray became more amused, it got easier to open up. 

“I wonder if maintenance crews really do send back those joke answers on the maintenance forms,” Iero said at one point. “You know: Dead bugs on windshield. Answer: We have ordered more live bugs.”

“Some of them do,” Ray said. “I knew a guy once, the pilot complained that his plane had been supplied with too much fuel. He told the pilot that wasn’t true unless he caught fire.” Ray had a few stories like that, all starring other airmen, not him. Guides didn’t get the same leeway that other enlisted did.

Iero laughed hard. Encouraged, Ray added, “Hey, you know what makes the ideal cockpit crew?”

“Oh, tell me!” Iero said. “I’m going on to Flight School once I get commissioned. What is it?”

“Uh...” Ray said, suddenly much less sure about sharing his joke. “You know, it’s not really all that funny...”

“No, no, no, you have to tell me. Come on.” Iero leaned over to jostle Ray’s shoulder with his own. “Come on. Come on.”

He was still sort of laughing and seemed in a good mood, so Ray took the plunge. “A pilot and a dog,” he said. “The pilot feeds the dog, and the dog bites the pilot if he tries to touch anything.”

Iero was quiet for a second, then broke into surprised laughter. “That’s awesome!” he said. “A pilot and a dog. What other pilot jokes do you know?”

“Tons.”

Ray didn’t notice the time passing, but it must have been an hour or so later when Iero took his glasses off, saying with a tone of surprise, “I don’t need them now. Usually I’d need to sleep before my eyes went back to normal, and there’s so little time to sleep here, I wasn’t sure that would be enough.”

He sounded thrilled, and Ray couldn’t help responding a little smugly, “That’s what Guides are for.” Iero gave him a startled look, but didn’t respond.

“It’s a shame the same thing doesn’t work for you,” he said instead. Ray nodded and reached up to fiddle with the glasses he hated.

“Yeah,” he said. And then, because they’d been talking so casually and Ray had nearly forgotten that he should be careful what he said to Iero, he said, “I used to wear contacts, but...”

Iero looked up at him, looking mildly surprised. “Contacts?” he said. “But then you joined the army, right?”

“Yeah,” said Ray.

“But you know, they only make you wear those glasses in basic, right? After that, you can wear your own glasses, or contacts or whatever you want.”

“Yeah, I know that,” said Ray. “But you’ve still gotta buy your glasses or contacts, and...” He flushed a little, even though Iero receiving all his pay was sort of a fact of life and he already knew about it. 

“Oh,” said Iero, “Right.” He kept his gaze steadily on the pages of his book, although there was nothing in his expression to suggest that he was embarrassed. “But... you could get contacts now. If you wanted to.” He didn’t look up as he spoke, and his tone was very casual, as though he didn’t expect Ray to reply at all.

“I could,” Ray responded anyway. He could. Iero had given Ray his share of their pay. Ray had deposited it into his bank account. He hadn’t spent any of it yet, because if Iero thought he was frittering it away on junk he might stop giving it to him, but that was as good as permission. It would almost be like taking back a little of his identity. Ray hadn’t let himself think about how much he wanted that, until now.

************

Usually, Toro came with Frank during PT. Frank thought it was partly for something to do, and partly a conscientious work ethic. They hardly ever needed to link up for any reason, but since PT was always held outside there was always the slight chance of some uncontrolled scent or sound messing with Frank’s senses. The Air Force hadn’t been particularly concerned about that when he’d been in boot camp, but it seemed things were different now. Or maybe the difference was Toro; he was extremely diligent, and Frank supposed if the alternative was mopping hallways he couldn’t blame Toro for preferring to be outside. 

Today they were doing calisthenics, which was kind of shitty and boring, but at least it didn’t take much effort beyond the purely physical, and after all the training even that was getting pretty easy for Frank. He finished his set of push-ups and came back to his feet, waiting for the next order. Toro was training next to him. He usually participated in whatever training they did, even drill which in Frank’s opinion was the worst thing ever.

They went through a few more exercises, and Frank was sure he could hear some of the other OT’s talking on the other side of the formation. The instructor didn’t hear them, which was unsurprising, since they were speaking so softly even Frank’s Sentinel ears had taken a few seconds to register the sound. Once he noticed, though, the words became clearer. He heard, “Think the maid will come along for our field exercise?” and someone else replied, “They should give him an apron to wear, not blues.”

Frank frowned, wondering what – or who, they were talking about. Unfortunately, they were sent off to run laps right then, so the conversation stopped and Frank didn’t get the chance to hear more or identify whose voices he’d heard. He needed to focus on running and tried to put it out of his mind, managing well enough for a couple of laps. He drifted towards the back of the group as he ran; he always did that because of his stupid short legs. At least it wasn’t marching. The first couple of times they’d gone running, Toro had tried to stay with him, but Frank had told him not to bother after that. It was just too annoying struggling to keep up and seeing Toro jogging along effortlessly beside him.

That meant that Frank had a pretty good view of Toro, running some way ahead, and he saw the exact moment when one of Frank’s fellow OT’s shoulder-checked him. It only took a second; Toro stumbled but kept his feet, and the airman who’d bumped him continued on without so much as waving sorry. Frank looked around. The instructor didn’t seem to have noticed, and it wasn’t exactly a big deal or anything, but Frank felt like he should do something anyway. He was responsible for Toro; that had to mean stopping other people from hassling him. On the other hand, there was nothing to stop Toro from standing up for himself, and he hadn’t.

The OT who’d knocked him reached the turn, and Frank got a look at his face. It was Davis, that smug asshole. Frank had never liked him. And he was suddenly able to put together the face with one of the voices he’d heard earlier. He could have slapped himself for not figuring it out faster.

They’d been talking about Toro. Of course. The _maid_. Who should be given an apron to wear because he wasn’t worthy of the Air Force uniform. Frank abruptly wanted to grab Davis and his friend and smash their faces together. Just because Toro was working under bullshit orders and for some reason dicking Guides around was G-TAC’s idea of a good time, it didn’t mean they could treat him like that. Toro was awesome.

The abrupt surge of protectiveness took Frank by surprise, until he remembered it was supposed to be pretty common for Sentinels to be protective of their Guides. Even if they weren’t bonded. He’d doubted that the Blessed Protector Instinct thing was actually real; he hadn’t been able to reconcile it with the idea that Toro’s previous Sentinel had apparently beaten the shit out of him, and the one before that had raped him. But maybe those Sentinels had just been defective, because Frank was definitely feeling some irrational protectiveness right now.

Frank’s chances of catching up to Toro or taking Davis out with a flying kick were depressingly slim, so he merely finished the run while testing out whether his Sentinel powers extended to setting Davis’s head on fire. They didn't.

They finished after that and went for lunch. Frank was busy for the rest of the day with classes and Toro was off doing his own thing. Frank didn’t concentrate on his work as well as usual; he was preoccupied with trying to follow Toro with his senses and trying to listen in on his classmates’ conversations to see if they were still talking about him. Unfortunately, Toro seemed to be out of the reach of his hearing and the rest of the flight was being unusually quiet, so it was a fairly unproductive day.

By the end of classes, Frank had a huge amount of work to do for the next day. He resigned himself to a night of little sleep; he wanted to make sure he got a chance to talk to Toro. He’d been trying to prove his non-assholeness through his actions rather than just talking about it, but Toro reacted to every overture with polite and restrained wariness. It was time to get a few things out in the open.

Toro followed Frank into their room, like he did each evening to see if Frank had anything for him to do. Frank never did, but this night instead of sending Toro off to relax, Frank said, “Hey, um... can I ask you a question?”

Toro looked at him funny, which he did quite frequently, but merely said, “Of course, sir.”

It was then that Frank realised that he hadn’t actually figured out what he was going to say. “Uh, well...” he stammered, “Um, I wanted to ask you if... I mean, I wanted to check that no one’s been bothering you?”

Now Toro just looked confused. “No, sir?” he said hesitantly. “Things have been fine.” His heart rate increased and Frank could tell he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he knew telling Toro as much would just upset him.

“Oh, well, good,” said Frank. “Um. Because, you know, if there was any sort of issue with anyone, I’d want to know. So I could do something about it. If there was... you know, you could tell me.”

Something in Toro’s posture relaxed, his face softened, and he said, “It’s no big deal. It’s nothing I can’t handle, and it’s probably better if you don’t get involved. Uh, sir.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Frank. “I get that.” He hadn’t really thought of it, but it seemed obvious once Toro explained it. “Uh, and, I mean, you can call me Frank. Or Iero, or whatever. Just. It’s weird, you’re like ten years older than me.”

Toro took a minute to digest that. He held Frank’s gaze steadily as though he were judging the sincerity of Frank’s words. Finally he smiled – just barely, but it made Frank realise it was the first time he’d ever seen Toro smile. “More like four years,” he said. “Frank.”

Frank couldn’t contain his grin then. Usually, his next step would have been to jump on Toro and crush him with a hug, but after boot camp he’d learned to control such impulses and, although Toro never said as much, Frank had noticed that he was wary about people getting close to him. “Awesome,” he said. “That’s... yeah, awesome.”

Toro nodded and said, “Ray.”

“Huh?”

“Is my name,” he added. “Ray.”

“Oh, right,” said Frank. “I knew that.” Which was a stupid thing to say, but Ray just nodded like it was completely normal, and was kind enough not to actually explain that he was inviting Frank to use his first name. Frank was pretty excited that the conversation had yielded such spectacular results already, and he hadn’t even brought up the main issue yet.

“Listen,” he said quickly, before he could reconsider the words, “What they did, um, I think it sucks, and I want you to know that, um, they were wrong. And I believe you.”

Ray blinked, looking confused, and said, “What are you talking about?” He gave his head a little shake. “I don’t... there are a few jerks, but it’s seriously nothing you should worry about.”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I meant, you know, when you reported your Sentinel. Um. And they didn’t believe you, but... they should have. And I do.”

“Oh.” Ray’s face had suddenly closed off, in a way that Frank couldn’t quite describe but which made him want to step away. “That's not really... I mean. I made a mistake. And it's in the past now, anyway. You shouldn't worry about it.”

Frank looked at him oddly. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "If you want to talk about it, or anything...” Ray was shaking his head, so Frank changed tactics. “And, anyway, I thought, if you want to try again, to get them to listen to you, I’ll help. Back you up.”

Ray screwed his face up. “No, thanks,” he said.

Frank hesitated. “But they demoted you, and... stuff,” he said. “They should make you a sergeant again and give you all your back pay.” And apologise, he thought but didn’t say.

“I’d rather not,” Ray said, and his voice was more cold and distant than it had been since Frank had met him. Frank didn’t get it. He’d made that first report, he must have wanted to get justice for what that Sentinel had done to him. It hadn’t worked out then, but Frank was serious about sticking up for him.

“It’s wrong,” Frank insisted. “He shouldn’t get away with it. There’s nothing to stop him doing it again,” he added as an afterthought.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ray barked, and Frank jumped. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, going red. 

“It’s over!” Ray snapped. “It’s done. Let it go. I’m not, not talking about this. Just... I need to go.” He turned and swept out of the room, leaving Frank behind trying to make sense of what had happened.

************

The room Ray shared with Frank was the most private place in the dorm, and since Iero was in there and Ray didn’t want to be anywhere near him, that didn’t leave many other places where he could go to get some space. He grabbed some window cleaner and started cleaning the windows across the dorm, as far from Iero’s room as he could manage. If he sat in a corner and brooded, someone would notice, but Ray had learned that cleaning made him practically invisible.

It took some time, but as Ray calmed down he realised how badly he’d screwed up. He shouldn’t have yelled at Iero. Sure, Iero had been nice to him, had overlooked any number of behaviours that other Sentinels would have taken issue with. But no Sentinel would tolerate their Guide yelling at them. Not even Iero. Especially not when he’d only been trying to help.

Ray understood that Iero wanted to help. He appreciated the thought; there just wasn’t any point, anything that Iero could do. He might think otherwise, but Ray knew better. He hoped Iero would give up on the idea; he could, if he wanted, simply order Ray to go along with his ill-conceived idea of approaching G-TAC about reopening the investigation. That would put Ray in the awkward position of either pissing off his Sentinel or G-TAC, and either option probably ended with Soler carrying through on his threat to stick Ray with the worst Sentinel he could find. It was hard to imagine someone more unpleasant than Stephens, but he knew they were out there. 

The future looked pretty bleak, so Ray knew what he should be doing was sucking up to Iero and making the most of this time out, however brief it might end up being. But he’d completely stuffed that up too. Maybe they were right about Guides not being able to take care of themselves. Surely no one with any sense of self-preservation would have screwed things up this badly.

It hadn’t been fair of Iero to bring up the idea that Connell might do to his next Guide what he’d done to Ray, though. That had pushed Ray over the edge. 

It was normal for Guides to keep notes on their Sentinels, and pass them along to other Guides. A lot of Sentinels didn’t like it, didn’t like the idea of Guides writing about them or passing messages about them. Usually, Guides had to hide their notes in the belongings or home of their Sentinel. Ray had found notes from Connell’s previous Guide hidden in the linen cupboard. They’d been brief, sparse even. A short list of chemical irritants and some suggestions for alternatives. Ray had been annoyed at the time, frustrated that the Guide hadn’t bothered to go into more detail.

When Ray was about to be reassigned, he’d sat down to write notes for the new Guide. He’d wanted to give them something better, more useful. He just hadn’t known where to start. He’d got as far as ‘He...’ the first time. The second time, ‘Don’t...’, and the third time, ‘Just...’

In the end, he’d taken the old notes on their single page and tucked them back in between the towels in the cupboard. They were better than nothing.

Ray could usually finish cleaning all the windows in under an hour, but he managed to stretch the task to more than two. He wasn’t at all eager to go back and face the music. He meant to put it off as long as possible.

He went back to the room eventually. Iero was reading at the desk; when Ray came in he hastily stuffed some papers back into a folder and shoved it into a drawer. He must have been concentrating hard if he hadn’t heard Ray coming, because he obviously didn’t want Ray to know what he was reading. It was probably Ray’s file. Iero was probably trying to figure out the best way to punish him; trying to pick up some tips from Stephens. That was the sort of thing they encouraged new Sentinels to do. Ray felt sick.

Iero sprang up from the desk chair and said, “Ray! Are you... alright? You feel better?”

Ray just blinked at him in confusion. Iero wasn’t supposed to care about that.

“I know... we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I wanted to say I’m sorry. For upsetting you earlier.”

It was nice that Iero wasn’t yelling at him like he’d expected, but Ray was getting tired of his actions just not making any sense. It was all just... making him tired.

“I should apologise,” he said anyway, because it was the thing to say. “I overreacted. I should have been more respectful.”

“You had every reason to be mad,” Iero answered, although Ray noticed he didn’t comment on the disrespect thing. “It’s not my business. I won’t pry again.”

Iero looked so mournful that Ray couldn’t help responding to him. “I accept your apology, sir.”

“Frank,” Iero corrected, looking just as sad.

Right. Ray wasn’t too sure about that. Iero was trying and he wasn’t a jerk or anything, but he was still a Sentinel. Ray couldn’t afford to forget that again.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Frank was making his bed when someone knocked on the door. He answered it and found Lieutenant Soler on the other side. 

“Good morning, sir,” Frank said automatically, moving aside to let the other man into his room although he was confused.

“Good morning, Officer Candidate Iero,” he said. “I’ve come to observe Senior Airman Toro in his placement and ensure that everything is proceeding acceptably – I’ll be observing you both for most of the day.”

“Oh,” said Frank, feeling a bit shaken. “I don’t... did I know you were coming?” 

Soler smiled, and Frank tried to tell himself that he was imagining the condescending edge. “No,” he said. “It’s usual for a caseworker to observe a Guide in a new placement, and since Toro’s previous placements have presented some... difficulties, I chose to keep today’s observation unannounced. To ensure I got a good idea of a typical day.” 

Soler looked around the room, and his gaze fell on Ray’s bed, which he’d been in the middle of making although he’d come to attention as soon as the lieutenant entered the room. Bell looked over to Frank’s bed, which was also clearly half made, and he raised one bushy eyebrow.

Frank stared back at him, not sure what to do. He needed to get back to getting ready for the day, but if the Lieutenant was going to stand there and watch, then, well, it was sort of weird.

“As you were,” said the lieutenant. “Don’t let me intrude.”

So he was going to stand there and watch. Frank nodded and turned back towards his bed, but Ray shot across the room and got there first, straightening the covers with sharp movements. Frank looked around the room for something else to do, but he thought better of it after a moment and went into the bathroom to shave.

Soler followed them out to PT, where they were training for the Assault Course. The course kept Frank too busy to really keep tabs on whether Soler was watching, but every time he did glance around he saw the Lieutenant standing not too far away. Ray followed him through the course just as he always did, but Frank didn’t think he was imagining that he was sticking a little bit closer than normal. 

Lunch came soon after that, and Frank headed for the back of the line until Ray came to his side. “What would you like for lunch today, sir?” he asked, and Frank stared, because Ray hadn’t tried to get his meals since that first day weeks ago.

Then Frank realised Soler was still following him around and everything made sense. He sniffed, trying to filter out the scent of people and floor polish and pick up the food on the other side of the room.

“There’s a... something with pumpkin,” Frank said. “It smells good. I’ll have that.” Ray nodded and Frank moved out of the line, hoping to get away from Soler and suppressing his annoyance when the other man followed him.

“If you’ll follow me, candidate, we’ll be able to talk more easily over here,” said Soler, leading the way to the far side of the room where he took a seat at a small table. Frank sat opposite him and Soler wasted no time opening his notebook and rereading what was written there.

“So, Iero, first things first. Have there been any difficulties? Any problems?”

“No,” said Frank at once. “No, sir. Nothing.”

“Really?” Soler raised that eyebrow of his again, and flicked back through his notebook. “That would be very good news if true, but I hope you understand why I find it a little hard to believe. It would be unusual for a Guide to simply accept the rules of a new Sentinel, especially an inexperienced Sentinel, without trying to test the boundaries a little bit. Toro in particular – Major Stephens reported that he could be lazy, and occasionally insubordinate.”

“Well, that’s... not something I’ve found,” Frank responded, not sure what else to say. The bizarre thing was, it was true. He wouldn’t have been able to find an issue with Ray’s performance even if he’d been looking for one, like Soler seemed to be. 

“Hmm,” said Soler, not sounding at all convinced. Frank wondered if he should make up some petty problem to distract him. He wasn’t sure the risk was worth it. There was a chance that, however small the issue Frank invented, Soler would decide to use it as an excuse to get Ray reassigned. He decided to wait and see if Soler kept pushing.

“So, I take it you’re satisfied with Toro’s performance in maintaining your living space?”

“Yes, sir,” said Frank quickly. “Very.”

“Do you often have to prompt him to attend to these duties, or does he complete them without prompting?”

“I don’t have to tell him anything, sir,” Frank said. At least this part he didn’t have to lie about. “R – Toro gets to everything before I have a chance to notice it’s dirty.”

Soler nodded and made a note. As he was writing, Ray arrived at the table holding a tray, which he put in front of Frank. Frank smiled up at him and Ray looked back with a neutral expression. Frank looked back over to Soler to find the other man looking at him, with that expression he couldn’t decipher. Frank waited for the lieutenant to speak, but he just sat there while Frank looked at him and began to think that there must be something he was supposed to say or do. He couldn’t think what it might be and looked back at Ray, hoping that the ‘save me?’ expression wasn’t too clear on his face.

It must have been, because Ray said, “Would you like me to fetch Lieutenant Soler’s lunch, sir?”

Frank leaped on the suggestion like it was an oxygen tank and he was drowning. “Yes!” he said, probably a bit too enthusiastically. Ray’s lips twitched and Soler’s eyebrow was doing that thing again. 

Ray looked over at the lieutenant who said, “Salisbury steak. No beans.” Then Ray was off again and Frank looked down at his tray. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to start eating when Soler didn’t have his food yet.

“Don’t wait on my account,” said Soler. “I know how it is.”

With relief, Frank dug into his meal. His mom had raised him better, but after boot camp he couldn’t really handle the idea of having food on his plate and not eating it straight away.

“How does Toro perform as your guide?” Soler asked. “Is he of use in managing your senses?”

“Very much,” said Frank. Soler just continued to look at him, so Frank searched for something to add. “Um. Sometimes I have trouble with my eyes, and he helped me to handle that better.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Uh...” Frank floundered for a second, wondering if Soler was asking about the problems he had with his eyes or what Ray had done about it. In the end he decided to simply tell him the full story. “If I’ve been using long distance vision for a long time, sometimes it’s hard for me to go back to normal and I have to use reading glasses. So when that happened recently, Toro, um...” Somehow, it seemed wrong to share the intimate details of how Ray had helped when that had happened. “He stayed nearby until my eyes were better. It happened way faster than normal.”

“Hm.” Soler didn’t seem too impressed. “That is the bare minimum of what is expected of a Guide. Anything else?”

“Well, I haven’t had to use my senses very much...”

“Surely you’ve been to the range?”

“Oh, sure. But my hearing doesn’t spike.”

“Doesn’t spike?”

“No, it’s never been an issue.”

“And does Guide Toro trouble to accompany you to the range, or does he assume that is a low sensory risk area for you, and leave you to it?”

“Of course he always comes with me. I... he stays nearby just in case. He takes being a guide really seriously.”

Soler looked at Frank for a long moment, and he knew he’d gone too far. He was too defensive. From Soler’s perspective, he was probably giving too much praise for too little effort. Soler was kind of a dick. Frank sighed and slumped back in his seat.

Ray came back at that moment, with Soler’s meal and his own. At first, Frank felt relieved because it meant Soler stopped focusing only on him, but then he realised that Ray’s presence only gave him the opportunity to ask a new set of equally annoying questions. 

“How would you rate your performance as Candidate Iero’s guide, Airman?” Soler asked.

Ray had just been lifting a forkful of food to his mouth, but he lowered it back to the plate as he considered the question. “Uh... adequate, sir?” he said, eyes flicking quickly to Frank’s face and then back to his meal.

Soler’s pen hovered over his notepad. “Just adequate?” he asked mildly.

There was that glance again, from the plate to Frank’s face and then Lieutenant Soler’s before looking back down. “Yes- yes, sir. Adequate. Fine.”

“Well, which is it? Fine, or adequate?” Soler asked, sounding more impatient.

“He’s been-” Frank tried, but Soler raised his hand. 

“Please, let the Guide answer the question. It’s important.”

Ray rested his fork on the edge of the plate, as though giving up on the idea of eating anything. “Mostly fine,” he said, sounding more definite, although the tension in his voice was clear to Frank. 

“Only mostly? What areas of your performance do you think most need improvement?”

“Uh...” Ray looked at Frank again. Frank opened his mouth to say something, but the barest shake of Ray’s head kept him quiet. He waited on tenterhooks for Ray to say something. “I think... I need to be more aware of sensory irritants.”

Frank kept quiet about his disagreement. As far as he knew, he wasn’t affected by any sensory irritants. Ray certainly hadn’t neglected to protect him from them. It was just a bullshit question, he reminded himself. The lieutenant expected him to say something, and it was as good an answer as any.

“Sensory irritants,” murmured Soler, writing the answer down. “Stephens reported that you were sometimes less than attentive to housekeeping tasks. Have you improved this area of your work?” His tone suggested that such an improvement would be nothing short of miraculous, and Frank bristled. 

“Yes, sir,” Ray said uncertainly. Soler looked at Frank speculatively, but seemed to decide not to push the issue. He pursed his lips and added something to his notes.

“All right, then,” he said evenly. “I think that’s all I need. I will complete my report and discuss the outcome with Captain Boyd.”

The way he explained it sounded rather ominous to Frank, and although he thought he probably wasn’t supposed to ask, he couldn’t help himself. “What are... I mean, is everything okay, sir?”

Soler looked over at him reluctantly. “I have to tell you, Candidate, that based on what I’ve seen, I’m going to be recommending that Guide Toro be reassigned once you’ve completed Officer Training.”

Frank stiffened. He could pick up on signs that Ray was upset too, but tried to ignore them. Paying attention just made him want to go after whatever was bothering him, and attacking Soler wouldn’t actually help them. “But... I don’t understand, sir. Why?”

“Because after observing your interactions today, I’m concerned that you’re handling Guide Toro in a manner that’s inappropriately lenient.”

“But it’s working!” Frank exclaimed, frustrated. “We haven’t had any problems, R- Toro’s done everything I’ve as- told him to.”

“Exactly. This is essentially still an untested relationship. We have no way of knowing how you will cope when conflict inevitably arises.”

Frank wondered if he’d misunderstood, because it sounded like Soler was complaining that things were going too smoothly. If Ray had actually done anything wrong, he’d be complaining about that instead. It was a rigged game, where Soler had already decided to be unhappy, and worked back from there so that anything about the situation, no matter how good it was, could be used to justify his dissatisfaction.

“Well, in that case, sir,” Frank said, wondering how much of a smartass he dared to be, “maybe I should try to create some conflict, just so you can know for sure what will happen when it comes up.”

Soler nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to suggest it, but I’m glad you’re considering the idea,” he said. “The measure of a good Guide isn’t just that they can follow instructions when conditions are ideal; they need to perform under both physical and mental stress, and place their full trust in their Sentinel. You can prepare for this by reducing privileges – temporarily – things like hot showers, the amount of time your Guide sleeps. When he’s not working, have him stand to attention out of the way rather than doing as he pleases. You can make it clear that cheerful compliance will affect how soon his privileges are restored.”

Frank blinked. He’d been sarcastic, but Soler was completely serious. “Maybe I should feed him bread and water, too,” he suggested, just to see how far Soler would go.

“Whatever you think will be best,” Soler said, taking down a few more notes. “I’ll inform Captain Boyd of your plans, and you should schedule a meeting with him in a week’s time to discuss your progress. If it goes well, we might reconsider ending the assignment.” Soler excused himself and left, and Frank remained seated at the table, furious and not willing to move in case he gave into the urge to smash something. 

Frank looked over at Ray as soon as he dared to. He looked pretty pissed off too, his lips pressed so tight together they looked thin and pale, like they belonged on someone else’s face. 

“Is he serious?” Frank asked. “Can they really do that? Can they really split us up because we’re getting along _too well_?” 

He really couldn’t believe it, because it seemed so ridiculous, but Ray nodded. “G-TAC doesn’t like it when Sentinels and Guides get along,” he said. “If it catches on, they might start listening to one another instead of G-TAC, and then G-TAC would have to accept how irrelevant they actually are.”

It made sense, but that didn’t mean Frank liked it. “What can we do?” he asked, but Ray got that look on his face, the closed off one that meant he didn’t want to talk about something. Usually Frank tried to respect that, but this was too important. “Let’s go back to the dorm,” he said, because privacy would probably make things easier.

Ray must have used the short walk to think about what he wanted to say, because as soon as the door to their room was shut, he said, “I like... I mean, this assignment. Is good. I’d like to, uh, continue. So long as you do. So, maybe we should just... play along. He said a week, that’s not long.”

“But it’s _stupid_!” Frank argued, then felt furious with himself when Ray’s expression closed off. “I mean, how are they even going to check all this stuff? They won’t know if you had a cold shower or what time you got up, unless I tell them.”

“No,” said Ray, “but when we’re outside this room, you... you’ve got to. You know what I mean, you can’t be...”

“Not an asshole?”

“ _Nice_ ,” Ray snapped, sounding like he was all out of patience. “Sentinels aren’t nice, not to Guides. You can’t wait for me to offer to get your meal, you have to tell me. You can’t talk to me when we’re in the dayroom, unless you’re telling me to do something.”

“I don’t want to,” Frank said, and immediately wanted to slap himself. He wasn’t the one who’d be on the receiving end of all the bullshit. But Ray smiled a little bit.

“I know. That makes it easier. It’s just an act. I’d rather... if they assign me a different Sentinel, it won’t be an act.”

“Okay,” Frank agreed, forcing himself to stop complaining. It was a pretty small price to pay, to keep Ray with him.

******************

Ray and Iero agreed that, in the interest of getting Soler off their case, Ray should hang out in their dorm room unless he was doing some sort of work. Ray suggested they make sure he was seen around a bit more, cleaning or doing other traditionally Guidely things. Iero didn’t seem to agree that it would make a difference, but he’d accepted Ray’s assurance that it would. It meant that he was spending more time in the dorm, though, reading and trying not to disturb Iero, no matter how much he insisted it wasn’t a problem. He was writing a lot of letters.

He’d received a lot of letters too, since that first one he’d sent to his mother. He’d had them from his father and his brothers, although it was still his mom who wrote the most. It had taken a while, but he’d worked up the nerve to write to Mikey, too. Even though he was closer to Gerard, Mikey was a Guide, and a Guide writing a letter to another Guide was far easier to explain than a Guide writing a letter to a Sentinel that wasn’t his.

Mikey had written back to him, and Gerard too. Ray hadn’t set out to hide the letters from Iero, but there hadn’t been a good time to mention it, and the need to keep the little room tidy meant storing all the letters out of sight. Iero didn’t seem to have noticed how much mail he’d been getting.

One day Ray was in the middle of replying to one of Mikey’s letters, and he left it on the dresser when his pen dried up and he needed to go hunting for a new one. He came back to see that Iero had returned to the room and was settling in to work at the desk.

“You write a lot of letters,” Iero commented, and Ray’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. He didn’t seem mad or annoyed, but it was the sort of apparently innocuous comment that Stephens would make before he decided to let Ray know how much trouble he was in.

“Yes, sir,” Ray said, adding the sir just to be safe although he usually didn’t bother now.

“You must have a lot of friends back in Belleville,” Iero said. Ray wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t told Iero much about himself and he liked it that way. The stuff Iero did know was more personal than anything Ray would have chosen to share; he wasn’t about to volunteer more information if he could help it.

“I’ve never seen you call them, though,” Iero added, his voice free of any inflection. 

Ray wished Iero would just come out and say whatever he was getting at, but instead of demanding it he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t have a phone card.” He glanced over at Iero quickly just to track his reaction. “But I could... buy one,” he added. Iero tilted his head over his textbook, as though he was too absorbed in the chapter to have heard what Ray had said. Ray was certain he had heard it, though, certain he hadn’t missed a single word.

The frustrating thing was that calling his family hadn’t even occurred to Ray until Iero suggested it. Apparently he was just so well trained that ideas wouldn’t even cross his mind until his Sentinel granted him permission to have them. That was good, though. One less bad habit for his next Sentinel to break him from.

Ray tried to shake his head clear of his depressing thoughts. There was a payphone in the dayroom. He could buy a phone card tomorrow and call home that night.

***************

“Hello?”

“Mom,” said Ray. “It’s me.”

“Ray?” His mother sounded surprised. Of course she did. He hadn’t called her since his graduation from boot camp. Even his letters home had been sporadic after that. “It’s so nice to see you remembered how to pick up the phone,” she said. Ray sighed. Hearing his mother’s voice again, even when she sounded terse and harried, was a form of comfort he’d nearly forgotten.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch much,” Ray said, his voice wavering as some unexamined emotion tried to wrestle down his self control.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sounding worried now. Ray bit his lip and blinked his eyes harshly.

“I’m fine,” he said, striving to keep his voice steady and firm. “I just had some, uh... time to spare, and I thought I should call...” It wasn’t a good enough excuse, not nearly, for failing to call for four years, but she didn’t push the issue. 

**************

Ever since Frank had brought up Lieutenant Connell and Ray had blown up at him, the whole topic had sort of been the elephant in the room. When Ray wasn’t feeling pissed at Iero for sticking his nose in, he mostly just felt mortified by how much Iero knew. He wasn't acting weird about it or anything, which was a plus, but Ray couldn't shake the odd feeling of knowing that another person knew what had happened and believed him.

It took a few days, but he came to realise that that was what was affecting him so much. Iero believed him. Frank. Whatever. He'd never expected to have someone offer him that. It was a big adjustment to make.

Frank was tiptoeing around him even more cautiously than usual, which was saying something. His obvious efforts to be considerate were what eventually persuaded Ray that he should give Frank something... a little trust, a bit of honesty. He waited for a quiet day when Frank's class work was only moderately overwhelming.

He waited in the dorm room after dinner, which was what he'd come to do whenever he needed to talk to Frank about anything. Usually he would wait for Frank to speak first and Frank had come to expect that, but on this day Ray launched into his story without preamble.

"It's not that..." he started, and abruptly cut himself off. That wasn't right. "It's just kind of complicated," he explained instead. "I mean, I can understand why they decided it wasn't, you know. Not rape." His voice didn't waver or anything on the word, which was a relief. Ray hadn't been sure he'd be able to say it.

Frank said nothing, but he nodded, his eyes fixed on Ray's face. Ray had to look away. He couldn't say this stuff to someone while he was looking at them.

"I should have handled it differently," he admitted. "Lieutenant C- well, my Sentinel. He was... um. I guess he probably got the wrong idea. It wasn't his fault, really. I should have said something sooner, but then... you know. Misunderstandings happen." In his mind, Ray went over it all again, feeling once more the pain of realising that the right time to take action was months in the past.

Frank was frowning a little and Ray started to worry. He might have got this wrong; just because Frank was trying to be considerate didn't mean he wanted Ray to tell him all about it. Ray was almost ready to apologise and make an excuse to leave the room when Frank said, "It wasn't your fault, though. I mean... yeah, I read the report. You said... uh, well it sounded like you were pretty clear."

Ray tried to put out of his mind the idea of Frank reading his interview transcripts. He'd already known that Frank had done that. "But that's just... he was probably confused. It was the first time I'd said no like that, he probably didn't realise."

Frank frowned. “It shouldn’t make a difference,” he said. “Even if you’d had consensual sex a hundred times, it doesn’t mean you can’t say no the hundred-and-first.” Ray must have looked surprised, because Frank flushed and said, “One of our classes is a sexual harassment seminar.”

“Okay,” said Ray slowly. “I just meant that... he probably thought I didn’t really mean it. I should have stopped him the first time, maybe then...” 

Frank was still staring at him, but now his jaw had dropped a little. "So that wasn't even the first time he'd done that? And when you finally reported him, they said you were lying?"

Ray flinched, Frank's words hitting far too close to home. "It wasn't like that! I told you. And anyway," he paused to collect himself, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Frank started to say something, but Ray shook his head and left the room. Most Sentinels would have thrown a fit if he'd done something like that, but he was pretty sure now that Frank wouldn't do anything about it. 

And fuck him anyway. Ray knew it was stupid to be so mad, but he couldn't help it. Frank had no right dragging all this bullshit up, right when Ray had finally got it all nicely tucked away. 

*************

Ray’s mother knew something was wrong. Of course she did; if the four years without phone calls hadn’t tipped her off, then Ray would certainly have done it when he called and nearly ended up crying on the line. She wanted answers, and Ray couldn’t give them to her.

It wasn't just that he didn't want to talk about it. His assignment with Frank was likely to be over in a few months at the very most. There was nothing he could do about it, and if his mom had too accurate an idea of what his life was really like, it would just upset her. Ray didn't want her to worry when there was nothing she could do. He'd be fine, anyway. He could deal with it himself, and it would be better if he didn't have to worry about how his family was coping at the same time.

In the absence of details from Ray, however, his mother seemed to have decided that Frank was to blame for all the things causing her to worry. Ray spent a lot of his calls with her defending Frank and hoping that the Sentinel wasn’t listening to the conversation. He might have gone a little too far with it, because when his mother finally came around and stopped suggesting that Frank was the devil incarnate, instead she began hinting that the two of them should bond.

"I don't think so, Mom," Ray had said.

"Well, why don't you ask him?"

"It doesn't work that way, Mom." Guides didn't ask Sentinels to bond with them. They waited for a Sentinel to ask them. And after everything, Ray knew he'd be waiting a very long time for a Sentinel to ask him. That wasn't to say he hadn't daydreamed about it. Ray doubted he'd ever find as nice a Sentinel as Frank again. And he was attractive as well; he was the best prospect Ray had. But if Frank did ask, Ray knew it would be motivated by pity, and that would be hard to take. He'd say yes; Ray knew he would, because his other prospects were pretty grim, but afterwards he’d always hate himself a little bit for it.

 

************

The time came around for Frank’s scheduled meeting with Captain Boyd. He hadn’t been instructed to bring Ray as well, so he went by himself. He was worried about what the outcome of the meeting would be, but he tried to calm himself and play it cool. Boyd had Soler’s report and wanted to discuss it before handing it over.

“Soler has described a number of steps you agreed to take to get your work with Guide Toro back on track,” Boyd said. “How has that been working out?” 

Frank bit down his irritation at Boyd’s assumption that his relationship with Ray needed to be put ‘back on track’. He’d already talked everything through with Ray, and he knew what he needed to say. “It’s gone really well, sir. I have noticed changes. I’ve made sure that Toro’s time is more structured and productive, and he’s been responsive. He’s become much more attentive and respectful.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Boyd said with a smile. “And although it might seem harsh, you’ll find that your Guide will be happier in the long run with this new approach.”

Frank nodded and tried to smile, even though the conversation was disturbing on every level. “Well,” said Boyd, “if you can continue with this strategy, I don’t see any reason to recommend against continuing Toro’s assignment.”

“Thank you, sir,” Frank said, hugely relieved. “I was hoping you would say that. Toro and I have established a good rapport.” Officer training was nearly finished, with the field exercise being just a week away, so all they had to do was keep up the pretence for a few more weeks. Frank was pretty sure they could manage that.

The really nice thing about reaching the last few weeks of Officer Candidate School was being able to get passes off base. The first Saturday when Frank was awarded a pass, he told Ray the news and barely restrained his glee. “We should get off base and go see a live show or something!” he suggested.

“We?” Ray asked.

“Well, yeah.” Frank’s excitement deflated a bit. Things were better between him and Ray now, but he still had no reason to think Ray would choose to hang out with him for fun. “If you want to.”

“Live music?” Ray asked.

“That’s what I was thinking. The other guys always have the radio playing top 40’s shit. I haven’t listened to real music in months.”

Ray nodded slowly. “That sounds... good,” he said, still saying the words carefully as though he was waiting for the punch line. Frank was determined to prove that there wasn’t one.

It was early afternoon, and they had to return to base by five, so to Frank’s disappointment they didn’t manage to find any live shows. They went to a record store and spent a while listening to different CDs.

Frank had a blast listening to a few albums that he hadn't had a chance to listen to since boot camp. He found a couple that he wanted and picked them up, looking over to where Ray had been listening to the same CD for twenty minutes. He was so absorbed in the music that he flinched when Frank tapped him on the shoulder. Frank had to remember that not everyone had Sentinel hearing. Ray pulled the headphones off a bit reluctantly, it seemed to Frank, and looked over at him with a half-smile.

“Time to go?” he asked.

“I thought we could see a movie, if we get there soon enough,” Frank explained.

Ray nodded. He'd been reading the CD liner as he listened to the tracks, and he put it carefully back on the shelf, his fingers lingering on the case for an extra second before letting go. He walked towards the door, and Frank glanced at the CD he'd left behind. It was the most recent Metallica album, about a year old now. Frank debated the merits of a cassette tape against the CD Ray had been listening to, but eventually decided on the CD. There was a CD player in the common room, so Ray could listen to it there. Frank didn't think he had a Walkman.

He caught up with Ray outside the store after paying for his CDs, and they went to the cinema which was just down the street. Looking at the session times, Frank realised they wouldn't be able to see the horror movie he was interested in. The remaining choices were a comedy and a thriller movie, and Frank thought both seemed promising. He looked over at Ray to gauge his reaction, which ended up being fruitless. Ray looked back at him blankly, and Frank realised that Ray would let him make this choice without giving any of his own input, if Frank allowed it.

“Which one would you rather see?” he asked, not willing to let it go this time.

“Whatever you think...”

“No. Which one do you want to see, really? I don't care.”

Ray looked torn for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, and looked as though he wanted nothing more than for Frank to back down and make the decision for him. Frank stood firm, though, and eventually he indicated his choice with a wave of one hand.

They collected popcorn and soda and got into the theatre early enough to get good seats. They settled in and it occurred to Frank how much the whole day had been like a first date. He blushed a little in the darkness and hoped that the same thing had occurred to Ray. It didn't bother Frank, but he didn't want to make Ray uncomfortable. It made him self-conscious all through the previews, and eating the popcorn became awkward as he tried to avoid any chance of their fingers brushing together in the bucket.

It was a good movie, with loads of suspense and intrigue. Frank sat enthralled through most of it, until the scene where the main character's dog was killed by the bad guys. He sniffed a little bit and blinked his eyes hard against the burning. Stupid fucking movies with dogs in them, couldn't the director think of any other way to show how bad the bad guys were? And then he felt a warm hand wrap around his.

He looked over at Ray. He was intent on the screen, not looking at Frank at all, but those were his fingers gently clasping Frank's wrist, his thumb rubbing Frank's knuckles. Frank watched him covertly, his sadness forgotten. Ray looked good when he was happy. Happier. Throughout the whole day he'd been slowly relaxing, tension that had been a part of him for so long that Frank had never even really noticed it before gradually easing. The film had moved on and someone on the screen cracked a joke which made Ray laugh, a smile brightening his face which was visible even in the gloom to Frank's Sentinel eyes.

He returned his attention to the movie, but a part of him was still conscious of enjoying holding hands with Ray in the darkened cinema. The end of the movie was nicely satisfying, exciting with plenty of explosions and shit. When the lights came up, Frank looked across to Ray who met his eyes with a small smile on his face. Their fingers were still entwined, and it was just enough for Frank to forget the reasons why he shouldn't lean across the arm of his seat and meet Ray's lips with his own.

He kept the kiss gentle, chaste. After a second, Ray kissed back. Tentatively, but he did. Frank let the kiss last a few moments more before he pulled away. Ray blinked at him, his expression giving little away, but he didn't seem scared or upset, which was a relief. And then the smile came back, the one he'd had on his face during the best part of the movie, and he blushed, the redness showing up clearly since the lights had come back on. Frank thought it was as cute as anything, but he could feel himself blushing too.

“We'd better head back,” he said, and Ray nodded.

**************

Ray was a little disconcerted by the idea that he seemed to have thrown all caution to the wind. Being nice to Iero – Frank – was one thing, he'd never been anything but nice himself, and Ray could hardly justify being any less. Holding Frank's hand in the cinema, though, in retrospect he thought was maybe a dumb idea. He hadn't been able to help himself. Frank had been sitting there, feeling sad (Ray could tell, Guides could always tell) because of a dog being killed in a fucking movie, and it was pretty much the sweetest thing Ray had ever seen. It had been impossible not to try to comfort Frank somehow. In the back of his mind he'd been a bit worried that Frank would take that as licence to do things that Ray wasn't okay with, but he hadn't really believed that he would. Frank had been too good, too kind. 

At the end of the movie when he'd kissed Ray, Ray had been surprised by how much he'd wanted it. He'd forgotten that a kiss was never just a kiss, and that for all he knew Frank might interpret his compliance as a willingness to do all sorts of other things that he didn't actually want to do. He'd felt a bit nervous after the kiss ended, but Frank had just smiled and led the way back to the base. Ray had spent the rest of the day convincing himself it had never happened at all.

Frank still had study to do and Ray left him to it, coming back to their room that evening. Frank was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, and Ray turned down the covers of his bed. As he was tugging the covers down he noticed something sitting on the bed by his pillow.

It was the Metallica CD he'd been looking at earlier that day. They'd released a couple of albums since he'd gone into the Air Force. He'd managed to listen to the first one and loved it, but he still hadn't heard their latest one all the way through – only the few tracks he'd heard earlier that day. He'd wanted to buy that album more than he'd wanted anything in a long time, but he hadn't been able to talk himself into it. It just wasn't a practical thing for him to have.

Frank must have bought it for him. He had to have noticed Ray looking at it, and decided to buy it. Ray wondered why. What did he want for it?

Frank walked back into the room and Ray ducked out to the bathroom to brush his own teeth and get changed. When he came back into the main room, Frank was sitting on his bed looking at the door. Ray froze on the spot and waited.

Frank grinned at him a little nervously. “So,” he said. “Um. Earlier... we kissed.”

“I remember,” said Ray, trying to keep his face free of any expression until he could figure out where Frank was going with this.

“Yeah...” Frank hesitated. “I - I hope that it didn't make you uncomfortable, or anything. I, uh, I liked that a lot. I'd like to do that again, if... you know. If you do as well.”

Ray hesitated and Frank watched him expectantly. He had been hoping that Frank would be content to simply pretend it had never happened. Then Ray wouldn't have had to consider the question of whether he'd liked it or not. He knew he was making Frank wait a long time for his answer, and he felt sort of bad about it, but he didn't know how to say no.

“You can say no,” Frank said quickly, as though he was reading Ray's thoughts. “You don't have to... you can say no. I won't bring it up again.”

And with that, Ray was able to screw up his courage and say, “No. I'd rather... I'd rather not...”

“Okay,” Frank said. “That's fine.” He didn't get mad, or call Ray a tease, or demand that he return the CD. Ray got into his bed, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. It wasn't that easy. It was never that easy. But Frank just turned off the lamp and pulled the covers over himself. A second later he was so still and quiet that Ray couldn't tell whether he was actually asleep or just pretending really well. He supposed it didn't really matter.

*****************

Frank tried to respect Ray's rejection of his advances. He was disappointed, but it wasn't Ray's fault. He worried that he might have upset Ray, or made things difficult for him, but Ray didn't mention it again, and Frank followed his lead on the principle that he obviously didn't want to talk about it.

A few days later, they were out on the Air Expeditionary Force Exercise, the last hurdle before graduation. They were crossing a particularly rough stretch of ground and one of the other candidates stumbled on a loose rock, bumping into Frank. Frank, already unbalanced by the heavy pack he was carrying, tripped and fell, throwing his hands out to break his fall. He landed hard on a heap of shrubs, skinning one elbow.

He righted himself with a groan, accepting Ray's hand to help him stand up again. The others in his group looked at his elbow with concern. The designated medic opened up a medical kit and took out an antiseptic and an adhesive bandage.

“Are you alright, sir?” Ray asked. “Are your dials okay?”

The skinned elbow hurt like hell, but only in a normal way, not in the bone-aching, burning way that meant his dials were out of control and amplifying the pain. “Fine,” Frank gritted out. The medic dressed his elbow and Ray took Frank's hand and linked up anyway, which Frank appreciated. The antiseptic stung and the working link helped keep the pain manageable. He looked down at his bandaged elbow with satisfaction, but Ray still seemed to be worried.

“Do you have any other pain, sir?” Ray asked before Frank could ask him what the problem was.

“No,” he said. “It's just a graze. No biggie.”

Ray didn't seem reassured. “I'm sure you're right, sir, but I'm pretty certain you landed in a patch of poison ivy when you fell.”

Oh. Crap. Frank looked over to where he'd fallen. That sure did look like poison ivy, squashed by the hand he'd thrown out to break his fall. “Fuck,” he said, and now that he was thinking about it, his hand did sort of feel itchy. Not the one attached to the elbow he'd skinned, but the other one.

“Maybe we should radio Captain Mason and get Iero picked up,” suggested the medic.

“No way!” Frank insisted, even though his hand was starting to burn. If he got sent back, he'd have to repeat the exercise and his graduation would be delayed. It would be a pain in the ass. “It's just a little poison ivy. I'll be fine.” He could see a red rash starting to form, and glared at it furiously.

“I don't have anything to treat it with,” said the medic.

“I'll be fine,” Frank insisted. “The exercise will end this evening and I'll be able to take care of it then. I don't want to be sent back.”

Ray exchanged a long look with the medic, and Frank could tell they were deciding without words whether or not to let him have his way. It was frustrating. He wasn't a wilting flower, goddammit. He was an airman. They would have told any of the others to suck it the hell up already, but because he was a Sentinel, they were treating him like glass.

“Okay then,” the medic said doubtfully. “But if you have trouble keeping up, or your condition gets worse, we'll have to send you back.” He exchanged another glance with Ray, who nodded agreement while Frank scowled. He silently resolved that he wouldn't do anything to cause them to send him back, no matter how unbearable the rash became.

The rest of the day was miserable. They had another hour of walking ahead of them. Frank grit his teeth and put one foot in front of the other. The biggest blisters were on his knuckles, but the most painful were on his palm. He couldn't stop himself from clenching and unclenching his fist, even though he knew that it would just hurt the same as it had the last dozen times. He turned down Ray's offer of linking up again, afraid that if the Guide realised how much pain he was in, he would insist that Frank go back. Unfortunately, after the third refusal Ray asked him if that was why he'd turned down the link, and Frank had no choice to give in. He was worried when they linked up, half expecting Ray to summon the medic immediately, but he kept quiet, only the slight furrow of his brow revealing that he was aware of Frank's condition.

Once they reached their destination and had to battle with the other group for control of the designated area, Frank almost regretted his stubbornness. Using the rifle was a torment and his aim was far less accurate than it normally was, because every time he managed to line up a target his hand would itch and jostle the rifle.

They didn't manage to get through the other team's defences, and the other team was declared the winners after three hours of defending their position. Frank heaved a sigh of relief as he was finally able to put his rifle down.

The Medical Officer was not pleased when he saw Frank's hand. “Why was this injury not called in, Candidate?” he demanded.

“I wanted to complete the exercise, sir,” Frank answered. “It's not too bad.”

“As a Sentinel, you need to treat exposure to any kind of allergen very seriously. Your group's medic should have been aware of that, and so,” he added with a glare at Ray, “should your Guide.”

Crap. It had never occurred to Frank that this would come back on Ray, but it probably should have. He didn't want to give G-TAC another reason to give Ray trouble, so he said, “It was my decision to continue with the exercise, sir. I take full responsibility. Candidate Lanton advised me against it, as did Guide Toro, but my Guide doesn't make my decisions for me.” He tried to put enough cocky arrogance into his voice to distract the Medical Officer, while apologising to Ray mentally. He probably should have done as they'd suggested, but it had all worked out. He didn't really understand why they were all so upset.

The Medical Officer gave him a long look. “Your commitment is admirable, Candidate, but you should be more careful. Sentinels are a valuable asset, and should be treated as such.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank agreed quickly, happy to have diverted the officer's attention from Ray.

“I'm going to arrange for you to return to base immediately so you can receive proper medical care,” said the Medical Officer. That sounded like a pretty good idea to Frank, so he didn't protest.

*******************

After Frank's rash had been treated with calamine lotion and his skinned elbow had been deemed non-serious, Ray was allowed to take him back to the dorm. Now that Frank wasn't pushing himself to get through the field exercise and trying to hide the extent of his discomfort, he seemed pretty miserable. Ray felt sort of bad for him, but he knew Frank would be fine in a few days. He offered to help Frank get dressed for bed, but he waved the offer away and Ray left him to get changed in the bathroom.

Once they were both lying in their own bunks, Ray tried to relax enough to go to sleep, but it was nearly impossible. Every thirty seconds or so, Frank would toss and turn on the other side of the room. Every few minutes, he mumbled something under his breath. It was pretty annoying, but Ray couldn't feel all that grumpy about it. Frank had to be hurting pretty bad by this point. Ray should offer to help. He knew he should offer to help, but he didn't want to take the risk.

A minute or two passed where Frank was completely still, and Ray hoped that he'd finally gone to sleep. His hopes were dashed, though, when Frank actually whimpered. Ray couldn't stand it anymore, and got out of bed.

“Sorry,” Frank murmured through clenched teeth when he heard Ray move. “Sorry. Shit, sorry. I'll stop moving around in a second. I've just got to get... comfortable.”

They both knew that was unlikely to happen. “I can help you,” Ray said. “If you don't mind...” He could admit to himself that he was sort of hoping Frank would say no. Harder to accept was the small part of himself that wanted Frank to say yes.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Frank said. “What do we do?”

“Uh...” Ray eyed Frank's t-shirt uneasily. “It will work best if, uh, if we have skin contact, so...”

“Yeah?” Frank prompted.

“You'll need to take off your shirt.”

Frank didn't question Ray or hesitate for a second, just grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head with his good hand. “Right,” said Ray. He'd need to take off his own shirt too, of course. He fingered the hem for a moment before taking it off. Years of habit made him fold it neatly and put it away before coming back to the bed.

Frank was looking up at him, scratching absently at his hand in a way that suggested he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Ray put his hand over both of Frank's to stop him, and said, “I'm going to get into the bed now.”

“Okay,” said Frank at once, and moved over. Ray slid onto the mattress next to Frank and reached out for him. Frank moved into his arms without a protest. Ray wrapped one arm around Frank's shoulders and the other around his waist, and waited for Frank to settle himself.

Frank let his forehead rest against Ray's shoulder. “So what does this do?” he asked.

“I'm not sure, exactly,” Ray said. “It's just the same, uh, brainwave pattern stuff that Guides do all the time anyway. It just works better if we're closer, and touch skin to skin.”

“I don't feel better,” Frank complained.

“Give it a few minutes.”

Frank never said if it started to help or not, but some time later Ray realised that he'd gone to sleep, and not long after that Ray drifted off too.

He woke up when the sun was just beginning to rise the next morning. He'd slept well, and felt rested in a way he hadn't in a long time. Frank was still beside him, snuffling a little into Ray's chest. Ray sort of resented the way Frank fit so perfectly in his arms. He was supposed to be trying not to want this, but Frank was just making it harder.

In a moment that Ray liked to consider a complete loss of judgement and self control, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Frank's shoulder. It was nice and Ray was just about ready to admit to himself that he was happy, lying there next to a sleeping Frank, when he realised that Frank wasn't asleep at all.

At some point, Frank had woken up, and was now looking at Ray with attentive eyes.

“Uh,” Ray said intelligently. He was furious with himself. Bad enough he'd kissed Frank back in the cinema. At least then Frank had accepted that he didn't want to do it again. Now, the best case scenario was that Frank would declare him a cocktease, and the worst – well. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn't have...”

“It's okay,” Frank replied. “It's fine. I mean, I don't really understand...” He did look sort of confused, and earnest, and it made Ray feel terrible. “If you don't want to tell me, I won't make you talk about it,” he added, “but I do want to understand.”

Frank had given him a lot, really, and in return he'd asked for very little. Well, it didn't actually seem all that little to Ray now that he was considering it, but given everything, trusting Frank didn’t seem like such a huge risk anymore. Not with this.

“He used to walk in on me when I was in the bathroom. Or wherever,” Ray said. He whispered it too soft for normal ears, but loud enough for Frank. “He always said he was sorry and he seemed to mean it. At first I thought it was just an accident, but then it happened too many times.”

Frank didn't say anything, but he was still, so still against Ray that he knew Frank was waiting to hear more. “I never said... said anything to him. I never, um, confronted him about it, told him to stop. At first I didn't think he meant it, and then it, it seemed like it was too late.”

Frank moved then, just his good hand, stroking up and down Ray's forearm. “He was a dick,” he said. Ray shrugged.

“I'm not good at knowing what other people want,” he admitted. “I don't want to disappoint you. I'm probably not going to be much good at... at doing what you want. I'm not sure I can.”

Frank was quiet for a long minute, but eventually he spoke. “I promise,” he said fiercely, “I _promise_ , anything you want to do... I'm okay with that. And anything you don't want to do, that's fine to. If we kiss, I'm not going to assume that means you want to do anything else.” He paused briefly. “I know I haven't given you much reason to believe me...” he said.

“You have,” Ray interrupted. “You've given me plenty.” He remembered Frank handing over his mother's letter, and his pay, and the CD, and asking nothing in return. He remembered Frank speaking up for him and listening to him. He had to believe that Frank wasn't going to hurt him if he hadn't done so already. This time he moved first, and let his lips meet Frank's, feeling a soft gasp against his mouth.

Reveille came far too soon.

*************

The next few days were taken up with exams and graduation rehearsals, and after that the ceremony itself. Frank was looking forward to it more than he'd looked forward to anything in a long time. Not the actual ceremony, really, but all the perks that would come with being a commissioned officer. Having quarters to himself and being able to cook his own meals that he actually liked, instead of the mass produced slop in the dining hall.

The day after graduation, they began the drive to Colorado. They left early in the morning and drove all day, stopping overnight in Oklahoma City. The army was paying their travel costs, and so the room was clean but basic.

The smart thing would have been to turn in early and rest up for another day’s travel, but Frank could admit he wasn’t someone who typically did the smart thing. He dumped his bags by the bed nearest the door and waited for Ray to do the same. “Want to go out?” he asked, quivering with anticipation.

Ray immediately looked conflicted and Frank almost regretted his impulsiveness. It was obvious that Ray thought the proposed outing a bad idea and didn’t feel he could say so. “We passed four clubs advertising live music on the way in,” Frank added, and while Ray tried to hide his reaction Frank noticed the way his eyes lit up.

They walked to the first club, as it was just down the street and Frank didn’t think either of them wanted to get stuck being the designated driver. The heavy beat of the music could be heard from the street. It wasn’t quite Frank’s taste, but Ray really seemed to like it and Frank resolved that they would stay for the whole set if he wanted to.

They got drinks and Ray found a spot by the wall where he could watch the band. Frank stayed with him for a few minutes before he headed for the dance floor. He could feel Ray’s worried eyes on him and it caused him some mild amusement. He still wasn’t quite used to the idea that Frank had complete control of his hearing. The strobe light was more of an issue for him, and it wasn’t enough to stop him enjoying a night out.

After three hours and two more clubs, though, it was taking its toll. His eyes itched and burned, and his vision wouldn’t stay in focus.

“I’m getting tired and we need to leave early,” Frank said to Ray. “Are you ready to head back?” Ray nodded and they headed for the door.

They arrived at the motel room and Frank looked at the two beds. “Do you think...” he began tentatively. Ray looked at him, waiting patiently.

"My eyes hurt," he whispered. "Do you think you could help, like you did that other time?"

"Sure," said Ray.

"Only that, I promise," Frank said. "Nothing else."

"No problem," said Ray. Frank looked for any sign that Ray was uncomfortable with the request, but he was revealing nothing. Frank couldn’t see his face well enough to judge his expression, and his breathing and heart rate were only a little higher than normal, nothing that couldn’t be explained by the dancing and the walk.

Frank sat down on the bed and tried to undress. He might have had a little more to drink than he’d realised at the time, because his fingers didn’t really cooperate. Ray helped him, although he seemed to hesitate over getting undressed himself. Frank slid under the covers and turned away, hoping that Ray would be more at ease if he wasn’t watching.

After a minute Ray got into the bed behind him. He perched on the edge of the mattress until Frank grabbed his arm and pulled it around himself. A little more careful tugging got Ray positioned just right so that Frank could curl up against his chest. When Frank finally stilled, he felt Ray press a kiss to his hairline and a rush of arousal followed it, but he reminded himself that he’d promised not to act on it.

Ray was stroking Frank’s shoulder with his thumb, though, and that was making it more and more difficult to keep his hands to himself. After a minute or so, without even thinking about it, Frank tilted his head back to kiss Ray. Ray kissed him back, firmly although the touch of his hands was light. He rolled onto his back and pulled Frank on top of him.

They kissed like that for what seemed like an age, and Frank would have been content to continue like that forever without seeking anything more. Ray slid one hand down Frank's spine to the waist of his boxer shorts, and toyed with the elastic. Frank whimpered into Ray’s chest, that simple touch almost too much. He could feel Ray’s dick hard against his thigh, and then he spread his legs, letting Frank settle between them. Frank shifted so that his cock pressed against Ray’s with just the cloth of their underwear in between, and Ray moaned. 

Frank wanted nothing more than to move against him and let the sensation build. It felt so good and he could tell that Ray was enjoying it too. He could smell Ray’s arousal, but he could also feel the slight tension of Ray’s body, as though he was trying to hold himself back. His heart was beating hard, and it could have been simply arousal, but Frank thought there was more to it. He pulled away slightly, just enough that there was an inch of space between them, and tried to gather his thoughts.

"Sorry," Frank said quietly, "I shouldn't have let it get that far."

"We don't have to stop," Ray said. He seemed to mean it, too, but when he spoke the nervous edge in his voice was clear and Frank knew he’d made the right choice.

"I promised we wouldn't. I shouldn't break my promise any more than I already have."

Ray was quiet for a minute. "I might be okay with... with you breaking that promise."

Frank breathed out, a sudden hard rush of air. He wanted to jump and shout but he settled for hiding a smile against Ray’s shoulder. "I can wait until it's not a case of 'might'," he said. "And until we haven't had quite so much to drink."

Ray held still as Frank shifted on the mattress. He rolled over, away from Ray, but kept hold of Ray's hand in his and squeezed it gently. After a few minutes Ray slid across to spoon up behind him, and Frank settled against his chest with a contented sigh.

**************

They left very early the next morning, knowing that they had nearly fourteen hours of driving ahead of them. It was still dark when they got on the road, and it had been a cold night so mist still hovered over the ground. Frank was driving, and he fished out the flashcards he’d made and asked Ray to quiz him. The first day of training he’d need to sit a test on boldface and operating limits, and a single mistake would keep the entire flight from permission to wear their flight suits. Frank wasn’t going to be that guy, no way.

He had been studying and had everything memorised, but struggled a bit remembering which words were capitalised and which weren't. He told himself it was just the distraction of driving at the same time, and hoped that he'd fare better when he was writing his answers down instead of verbalising them.

They switched turns driving a few times and stopped for lunch around two. They'd been making decent time and expected to reach Colorado by around six o'clock. Frank whooped as they reached the state border, and then they had to pull over because his bladder was about to explode. They stopped long enough to buy fries and sodas from a van at the rest stop, and then got going again. A thick fog was starting to descend, and Frank scowled into the darkness. He could see well in low light, but even a Sentinel's vision couldn't penetrate fog.

They pressed on, putting the headlights on high beam and slowing down, trying to stay right between the lines. Frank knew Ray would only tolerate the driving conditions for so long before suggesting that Frank pull over and wait for... he wasn't sure what exactly. Frank was entirely opposed to that course of action, however. They were expected to arrive at the Initial Flight Training campus promptly the next morning, and before that happened Frank had plans to get a good night's sleep, not spend the night cramped in the seat of his tiny car.

Frank pushed his sight to its limits to get every scrap of visual input he could. "We can't have too much further to go," he said firmly. "We'll be checking in to our motel before you know it."

Ray looked doubtful. "If you're sure," he said, but it was clear that he actually meant 'I'm not so sure'. Frank kept his eyes forward, brow furrowed in concentration. Ray was reading the map with a small penlight. "Have you seen a sign for La Junta yet?"

"Should we have?"

"I think so, yeah," Ray said after a worrying pause. Frank grimaced and kept driving. They didn't discuss turning around. They were on a narrow road on the shoulder of a mountain, with less than a foot between the asphalt and the sheer drop on the right. There was no room to turn back.

Frank sighed and rubbed his eyes, beginning to feel weary. "Maybe we should stop for a breather," Ray said. "Pull over to the side of the road and take a nap for an hour."

"There's no room," said Frank. "If anyone else comes down the road they'll hit us."

"We haven't seen another car in hours."

"Still." Frank blinked his eyes hard. His vision wavered alarmingly, the width of the road seeming to fluctuate. Frank gulped and slowed down even more. "We'll have to get to a turnout sooner or later," he allowed. "I'll pull over then." He hoped it was soon.

They came upon a corner suddenly, too suddenly in the fog. Frank braked and turned, but it was a much sharper turn than he realised at first, and his vision was fading in and out, making it hard to judge exactly which direction he needed to go. He still thought he'd made it. He was actually thinking that he would pull over as soon as he'd rounded the bend and ask Ray to drive, but then he felt the wheels on the right shift. He heard pebbles bouncing away and realised that he'd veered onto the dirt beside the road. He tried to correct, spinning the wheel, but the ground was soft and it gave way under the weight of the car, and in just a few seconds it slid right off the shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't as far down as Ray had feared. The car rolled once, twice, a third time before it smashed to a halt against the ground. Ray groaned. Being tossed around in the car had hurt and he was breathing hard from fright. The seatbelt cut painfully into his chest, because the car wasn't level and it was the only thing holding him in his seat.

Ray looked for Frank. He was still there, buckled into his seat, not moving, blood covering half his face. "Frank?" Ray whispered, because it hurt to speak any louder.

Frank didn't respond, lying in a heap against the window. Ray reached for him, his fingertips searching for the pulse point at Frank's throat. It took him a moment to find it and he began to panic, a sharp stab of despair threatening to overwhelm him. Frank couldn't be dead. Ray wouldn't allow it. And then he finally found Frank's pulse, faint and irregular, but it was there. Ray sobbed with relief.

There was nothing he could do for Frank in the car, so Ray started looking around to try to see what he could of where they'd landed. It was still dark out, and foggy. The car's headlights were off, and Ray reached over to try to flick them back on. He toggled the lever up and down, but nothing happened. The headlights had to be broken.

Well, if that wouldn't work he'd need to figure out how to get himself out of the car. Ray shifted slightly in his seat. He tested the seatbelt and tentatively unbuckled it. It was a relief to not have it wrapped so tightly around him anymore, but he had to brace himself with his arms so that he didn't fall down and land on Frank. He grabbed the handle of the car door and gave it an experimental tug. The handle gave but the door wouldn't budge, although Ray shoved as hard as he could.

It was hard to tell in the gloom, but he guessed that the door might be bent out of shape too badly to open. He would have to try to get into the backseat and try the other doors. It would be awkward. He didn't want to risk falling on Frank and worsening whatever injuries he might have.

Ray twisted his head around and tried to figure out how to squeeze himself between the two front seats. He thought if he could grab the back headrest on the driver's side, he could probably pull himself towards it and turn himself around once he was on the backseat. It would be tight and awkward, but he could manage it. He shifted to the side and stretched his arm out, twisting in the seat so that he could get both hands on the headrest. His torso turned just fine, but his legs didn't want to move. He gave an experimental tug, but he seemed to be stuck. Ray looked back down towards his feet. He couldn't really see anything, but when he felt with his hands he found that the foot well was all smashed in, metal wrapped around his feet.

Ray considered it. He had to get out; they needed to find help somehow. He wrapped his hands around his left calf and tried to pull it free, but a spark of blazing agony shot up his leg at the attempt. He froze and cried out, his voice hoarse from the pain.

The sound woke Frank, or maybe he was coming around anyway, Ray didn't know. His eyelids fluttered and he whimpered. Ray leaned back down towards him.

"Frank?" he said.

Frank looked like he was hurting. His face was screwed up and his eyes were firmly shut. "Ray?" he mumbled.

"Oh, thank God." Ray put a hand to Frank's forehead, trying to avoid the site of the injury, and smoothed a thumb across his brow. "I was so worried."

"Wha' happened?" Frank asked. "We still in Jersey?"

"Colorado," Ray said, feeling a little worried. Frank had hit his head pretty hard. It made sense that he'd be a bit confused. Ray just hoped it wasn't a sign of something more serious.

"'s dark."

"You've got your eyes closed," Ray pointed out with a hint of amusement. Frank gave a derisive snort. "But yes. It is dark."

"Need help."

"Yeah." Ray looked back up where they'd fallen down. "It's foggy. I don't think anyone will see us down here until the fog clears in the morning."

"Won' see us."

"No." Ray had an idea. "They might hear us, though." He reached over to the steering wheel and found the horn, pushing it as hard as he could. He gave a few good blasts before Frank screamed.

"Stop! Fuck, stop!" Frank yelled. He had covered one ear with his hand but his other arm remained at his side. "Too loud."

Shit. If Frank's hearing was spiking, something was seriously wrong. Ray pulled his hand away from the steering wheel and put it to Frank's chin. He would have taken Frank's hand but he wasn't moving the one closest to him which made Ray think it was injured somehow. He opened a working link and said, softly, "Tell me what's going on, Frank. Where are your dials?"

Frank just groaned in response, so Ray added, "What's bothering you? Hearing, touch? Anything else?"

"Everything," Frank gasped. "It's all..."

"Okay," said Ray quickly. "Let's work on your hearing." Touch was probably a more urgent problem, but Ray hoped that Frank's excellent control over his hearing would make that an easier place to begin. "Right now, everything's way too loud, like the Concorde, right? But it's flying away, and it gets softer as it flies. It's in the distance, and you can only just hear it..."

He kept going until Frank was able to bring his hearing back down to a normal level, and then worked on his sense of touch and finally sight. He wasn't having too many problems with scent and taste, which Ray was thankful for, but the other three senses were affected severely enough that it took the best part of an hour to bring them under control.

"What now?" Frank asked, once his senses had stopped spiking.

"We'll have to wait for someone to find us," said Ray. "Neither of us can get out."

"How long?" Frank wondered. Ray checked his watch again.

"It's a little after midnight," he said. "Sunrise should be around seven, and then this fog’s got to burn off... There's got to be some sort of marks where we went off the road, though. Skid marks, or tracks in the dirt. Someone will see if they come this way."

"If," Frank repeated.

"Yeah," Ray agreed reluctantly. "It doesn't seem like this road gets a whole lot of use." If it did, they'd probably invest in more guardrails for it. Looking over at Frank, Ray could see he seemed quite discouraged. "They're expecting us to turn up for training tomorrow," he pointed out. "When we don't arrive, they'll come looking for us. We just have to hang in there."

Frank didn't respond to that, and Ray thought he was just frustrated until he noticed Frank's stillness, his unblinking gaze. "Frank?" he asked, and then realised he was in a zone. "Shit," he muttered. Ray figured the zone was probably caused by the pain, and so he started to talk to Frank in a soft voice, reaching for Frank through the link he was maintaining. Eventually, Frank came out of the zone with a muffled sound of pain.

"Sorry," Ray said. "You zoned."

"Hurts," said Frank.

They spent a bit longer going over Frank's dials once more, trying to bring them back under his control. When he seemed to be coping a bit better, Ray said, "Can you tell where you're hurt? Maybe get an idea of what's going on?"

Frank concentrated. "It's my legs," he said. "And my arm hurts, too. And when I breathe. It's mostly my legs, though. They hurt pretty bad. Really bad, actually. Ah, shit!" He twitched in his seat, and Ray cursed, searching for Frank's dials for a third time. He stopped asking Frank questions after that. It was obvious that thinking about the pain negated Frank's ability to keep it under control.

That set a theme for the rest of the night. Ray and Frank would spend a while stabilising one of his senses, and a minute or two after that was done, one of the other senses would start to spike and that would inevitably lead Frank's sense of touch to spiral out of control along with it. A couple of times, Frank heard cars pass them by on the road above. He didn't hear them soon enough for Ray to lean on the horn again, but they decided to try bringing Frank's hearing up so that he could hear them coming from further away. It didn't really work out, though. As Frank's hearing edged up, his other senses did the same, and Ray was back to helping Frank manage the pain.

Ray was exhausted by the time the sky began to lighten. Frank noticed the sun rising too, and said, "Oh, thank fuck." Watching the horizon slowly change colour at least gave them something to do, but it also made it pretty clear just how thick the fog still was.

"It's going to take a while for this to burn off," Ray said. "We've got a bit longer to wait." Frank grumbled and thumped his head back against the seat, which made him gasp in pain. Ray rolled his eyes, but he felt the same frustration. The accident had happened nearly twelve hours ago. They'd been waiting in the dark ever since then, with periodic sensory spikes on Frank's end, linked up for the entire time because of it.

Shit. They'd been linked for nearly twelve hours. In his panic over the predicament, Ray had forgotten why that was a bad idea. He tore his hand away from Frank's, alarm making his movements jerky.

"What is it?" Frank asked, fuzzily, seeming disoriented at the abrupt breaking of the link. "Ray?"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. They couldn't be bonded. They hadn't been linked long enough. Sure, twelve hours might be all it took for some pairs, but that was really rare. They were fine.

"Ray?" Frank repeated, a whine creeping into his voice. "C'mon. It hurts." He reached across with his good hand. Ray hesitated over resuming the link. It was illogical. It had been broken. There was no danger now in linking up again. But for a second he regarded Frank's hand as warily as he would a snake. Frank's breath was catching and Ray felt guilty, his reluctance crumbling. He grabbed Frank's hand and opened the link again.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked, once he could speak easily. "Your heartbeat's racing." Ray looked for the right words to explain his worry, but none came to him. After a minute, Frank seemed to reach the right conclusion on his own. "Oh," he said. "Shit."

"I'm sorry!" Ray said quickly. "I didn't think... you were really hurting, and I forgot..."

"It's fine," Frank said quickly. "It's fine." He looked serious, but said, "I didn't think of it either. So... does that mean, uh... are we bonded, now?"

"No!" said Ray at once. "No. Definitely not. It hasn't been long enough."

Frank looked dubious, though. His expression became one of concentration, and then Ray felt something. He felt it in his mind, a tug, like the plucking of a guitar string. He felt it right down his spine, and he could follow it back to Frank.

“Dude,” said Frank slowly. “We’re totally bonded.”

Ray shook his head but Frank just barrelled on. “We are!” he said. “I can feel it.” And Ray felt that tug in his mind again.

That was the last straw, and Ray’s panic and guilt broke out of him in a flood. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen! I just... you were hurt, and I wanted to help you...”

“Ray,” said Frank. “Ray! Ray, it’s fine. It’s fine, I’m not mad. I’m not.”

Ray shook his head, because if Frank wasn’t angry, it was probably because he didn’t really understand. “We can’t break it,” he said desperately. “The bond is permanent. Only one of us dying would break it.”

“I know,” said Frank. “I’m sorry. I guess this isn’t exactly what you would have wanted.” He looked sad, saying that, and even a little hurt, and Ray didn’t know how to make it right. With Frank, he never knew what to do.

“That’s not...” he started, then changed tacks to “I’m glad... it’s an honour. But. You should have been able to, to choose. To decide.”

Frank considered that. “Okay,” he said. He took a deep breath, then coughed and groaned when breathing aggravated some of his unseen injuries. Ray focused on helping him bring his senses back under control for the next few minutes, but after that Frank started right up again.

“I guess I should have had a choice, but you know that applies to you as well, right?” he asked, seriously. Ray shrugged. Sure, he should have had a choice, but he was in no position to make Frank’s life miserable if he wasn’t happy with the way things turned out. Frank, on the other hand...

"I was thinking about it," Frank admitted after a moment. "I didn't ask you because, well... we haven't known each other for long, not really. I didn't want to, like, make things awkward for you. But I did think about it."

Ray sighed. "It's not just theoretical now," he said.

"No. Fuck. I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologise."

"Of course I do. You got this huge choice taken out of your hands, just because you were trying to help me."

“No,” said Ray automatically, and then, because Frank had been honest with him, he steeled himself to return the favour. “I’m happy to be... I would have said yes. When you asked me. I would have said yes."

"Oh," said Frank, looking surprised, like it had never occurred to him that Ray might want to bond with him. Of course it hadn't, Ray figured. Frank was special like that. "I'd kiss you right now," Frank said, "But I can't fucking move."

And to that, there was nothing Ray could do but laugh. "We'll get a chance," he said. "Later." They really would.

***************

It was an hour or so after that that someone found the spot on the road where they'd gone over the side. It took another four to get a medical team down with the right equipment to get Frank and Ray out of the wreckage and into an ambulance. The paramedics had wanted to split them up, but had backed down when Ray said, "He's my Sentinel."

Hearing Ray say that, describing Frank as his, was like a silver lining on the whole shitty experience. And the paramedics laid off and didn't even suggest splitting them up again. No one would be able to separate them now if they didn't want to be. Frank would never have to worry about what would become of Ray after he was reassigned.

The ambulance raced along the narrow mountain roads a lot faster than Frank would have thought safe, but he supposed the ambulance driver knew the roads pretty well. He'd gathered from overhearing snippets of conversation that accidents weren't exactly uncommon in the area.

When they arrived at the hospital they were raced through to be examined. They had to wheel out a stretcher for Ray, because he'd been sitting up next to Frank in the back of the ambulance, but he couldn't walk. It turned out his foot was broken.

Frank had three broken ribs and a broken wrist, because when the car had rolled he'd used that arm to protect his face. The worst injuries were to his legs. The right leg was broken in two places, which sucked. His left leg, though, had been pierced by a piece of the wrecked car when it landed, and the doctor was quick to point out that it was only the pressure of the crumpled front of the car against his legs that had kept him from bleeding to death.

They wanted to take him for surgery, and they weren't going to let Ray come along for that. Frank knew it would be fine. He was going to be fine, and Ray was going to be fine. The doctors were going to look after both of them. That didn't mean he was eager to be separated from Ray.

After ten or so minutes of Frank thinking he was ready to be taken to the operating theatre and then realising that he needed to wait for just one more minute, they decided to start the anaesthetic right there so Ray could stay with him until he was unconscious. Frank had a feeling he was going to be pretty embarrassed about that once it was all over, but right then he didn't really care. The doctor asked him to count backwards from one hundred, and Frank did, but he kept his eyes on Ray the whole time.

**************

As soon as Frank was gone, and they set Ray’s foot and put it in plaster and got him dosed up on the good stuff, Ray grabbed the phone by his bed and called Frank’s mom. He made sure to begin with the important news – that Frank was okay – and then explained what had happened. She was understandably upset.

“Should I fly out there, Ray, do you think?” she asked anxiously. 

Ray hesitated, not sure how to answer. He knew that the plane ticket would be expensive and that Frank’s mom wasn’t exactly well off. On the other hand, Frank and his mom were close, and Ray was sure he’d want to be near her right now. 

“Why don’t I get Frank to give you a call once he’s out of surgery and awake?” Ray suggested. “You two can talk it over.”

After that, Ray had to take on the task of calling the Initial Flight Training facility to explain what had happened. It was already after three in the afternoon, so they had probably already guessed that something was wrong. He explained that they had been in an accident, and that Frank had been badly hurt. He didn’t go into details about Frank’s injuries; the doctors hadn’t said a whole lot and Ray wanted to make sure their superiors got the right information straight from the source. 

It was hours later, when Ray was sitting by Frank’s bed watching him sleep, that someone came into the room. He was wearing Air Force blues and his insignia identified him as an SRB liaison, so Ray sat up straight and said, “Sir.”

The newcomer looked at him with a raised eyebrow, probably because Ray hadn’t stood up. Ray set his jaw and remained sitting. The guy had to have noticed that he was sitting in a wheelchair. The doctor had given him strict instructions about staying off his feet.

“Guide Toro, I presume,” said the liaison primly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I am Captain Edgell. I was assigned to be Lieutenant Iero’s liaison during his training in Colorado.” The captain fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. He didn’t ask about Ray’s injuries, or Frank’s, for that matter.

“I have spoken with Lieutenant Iero’s doctor. He’s informed me that the Lieutenant’s injuries are such that he will be on medical leave for several months. I expect G-TAC will move to reassign you within the next few days.”

Ray cleared his throat, feeling abruptly nervous. “That won’t be possible, sir,” he said.

The captain blinked at him for a few moments, not comprehending. He wasn’t a Sentinel, or a Guide. He wouldn’t be able to sense the bond without being told. But Ray could definitely see the moment when he figured it out.

“You’ve...” he began, gaping slightly. “Why, you opportunistic little bastard!”

“Sir...” Ray began, shifting forward in his seat.

“Hold your tongue, Guide.” Edgell bristled like an angry cat. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you? Oh, I’ve read your file. I can’t imagine what they were thinking back in Georgia, letting you get your hooks into such an inexperienced Sentinel, but it all worked out for you, didn’t it?”

“It was an accident,” Ray interjected quickly.

“Don’t talk!” Edgell barked. The noise woke Frank, who twitched and stirred, a slight moan coming from his lips. Ray looked down at him, relieved that Edgell’s attention had been diverted, but concerned for Frank. He put a hand to Frank’s shoulder, even though the force of Edgell’s rage was a palpable force from across the room.

“Whu?” Frank asked fuzzily. “Where ‘m I?”

“Hospital,” said Ray. “Do you remember what happened?”

Frank blinked, quite slowly, and at last he replied, “Car accident.”

“That’s right,” said Ray soothingly. Before he could go on to explain that Frank was going to be okay, Edgell butted in.

“That’s right,” he said. “Lieutenant, do you remember who was driving the car when you crashed?”

Ray kept his face tilted down and hoped that no one would notice how furious he suddenly was. Being accused of bonding with Frank deliberately when he was too out of it to resist was one thing, but to have this man suggesting that he’d orchestrated the accident deliberately left him breathless with rage.

“Driving?” Frank said. “Dunno. Was it me? ‘m sorry.” He looked so mournful that Ray couldn’t help but try to comfort him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. Edgell couldn’t do anything to him anyway. The paramedics would be able to confirm he hadn’t been driving.

“No, indeed,” said Edgell. “No blame will attach itself to you, Lieutenant. It is simply a sad misfortune that you appear to have given trust where it was not deserved.”

Frank blinked again, trying to parse all that, and finally said, “Don’ like you. Go ‘way.”

Ray looked down again, this time to hide his amusement. Edgell looked taken aback, and looking at his puzzled expression just made the urge to laugh stronger. Finally, Ray got himself under control and said, “My Sentinel requires rest, sir. Could we continue this another time?”

No matter how much of an asshole Edgell was, he couldn’t criticise a guide for doing what he needed to in order to care for his Sentinel. Edgell looked like he was sucking a lemon, but he said, clearly reluctantly, “Of course. I will return tomorrow. There will be consequences from this, have no doubt.” He stalked out the door in a huff, and Ray breathed much easier once he was gone.

**************

Frank had a feeling he’d overslept. His head felt groggy, like it did when he’d spent too long in restless sleep. His eyelids were sticky and reluctant to open, but he managed to force them apart.

A hospital room was what greeted his eyes. Not particularly encouraging. Ray was sitting by the bed, though. That was more like it.

“Hey,” Frank said, startled to hear his voice come out rough and gritty. Ray looked up, eyes widening, and shuffled forward in his seat. Frank tried to ask a question and coughed, the dryness of his mouth making it hard to speak. Ray helped him drink a few sips of water and finally Frank managed to ask, “What’s up?”

Ray gave him a doubtful look, like he thought Frank was taking the piss or something. “Your surgery went fine,” he said. “You’ve got pins in your right leg and stitches in your left. You won’t be doing much walking for a while.” 

Frank nodded. That was more or less what he’d expected. 

“They think you’ll need at least two months of medical leave, and maybe more physio after that,” Ray added. “The doctors were wondering what you’d want to do – go home while you recover? The Air Force will probably go for it. Save them having to put you up.”

“That... sounds pretty good,” Frank said. 

“We might be able to get the Air Force to pay for the travel as well,” Ray added. “Since we were travelling to training when the accident happened.”

“Cool,” Frank said, before yawning hugely. The few minutes of conversation were already wearing him out.

“And your mom wants you to call. She’s really worried.”

Frank groaned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to his mother. He just felt too tired to talk to her and reassure her that he was okay. He closed his eyes, meaning to get just a few minutes of rest before he called.

**************

It was only three days before the hospital agreed to discharge Frank and declared him safe to fly. To Frank, it felt like three years.

Frank knew that his mother had tried to keep calm for his sake, but he could tell how upset and worried she was. He tried to reassure her that he was fine, but it wasn’t easy. Explaining about being bonded had also been tricky, and had led him to describe the accident which had led to it, which had made her more upset. Frank just hoped that once he got home, she would accept that he was actually okay and not at death’s door.

The hospital wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Aside from all the irritating chemical smells and constantly being disturbed by doctors needing to check his vitals at ass o’clock in the morning, (Frank wasn’t sure why they couldn’t just wait until after lunch, when normal people were awake) he had to put up with daily visits from some SRB cretin named Edgell who had a bug up his butt about Frank and Ray being bonded. Ray told him that he’d actually met Edgell while waking up from the anaesthetic after surgery; Frank couldn’t remember but took Ray’s word for it. When Frank asked if the man had made a better first impression that time around Ray had snickered and looked away.

The daily visits were tiresome, but eventually Frank convinced himself to see them as a good thing. Edgell wouldn’t be so pissed off if there were anything he could actually do. He’d got in touch with Captain Boyd back in Georgia to whine about Frank’s bond, and Frank had had to put up with a phone call from him explaining why everything Frank was doing was terrible and stupid, but again, he hadn’t made any specific threats, just offered dire warnings about Frank’s future. “We’re going to be keeping a very close eye on you two,” Boyd had said, and Frank, who had been tired and hurting by that point, had replied “You do that, sir.”

Frank might have been able to get the Air Force to fork out the money for two plane tickets back to New Jersey, but he didn’t want to bother with it. He decided he’d deal with it later and paid for the tickets himself. It ended up being three seats, so that he’d have room to stretch his leg out.

The flight was kind of a drag. They both had to be helped onto the plane and it got uncomfortable really quickly. Ray was able to help when Frank’s injuries began to ache and he got restless, but he wished he could just get up and move around. Ray looked over at him anxiously every twenty seconds or so as though he was worried Frank might disappear.

“Something wrong?” Frank asked, once they were in the air and Ray still hadn't relaxed. “Does flying bother you?”

“No,” said Ray. “I was just worried about you... not all Sentinels handle flying well.”

“Really?” said Frank. “Why not?”

“I don't know. I think it's something to do with the air pressure. And all the people in your personal space.”

“Huh.” Frank looked around the crowded cabin. “I dunno. I don't mind flying. Just as well, really, what with the pilot training and everything.”

Ray laughed. “I suppose so.”

It wasn’t a terribly long flight – not quite five hours – and when they reached Newark Airport flight attendants helped Frank into a wheelchair and got them both off the plane safely.

Frank’s mom was waiting when they reached the gate. She looked just like how he’d imagined, dressed in plain clothes but with her hair and makeup nicely done, like she always did when she was worried. She was standing back a little bit from the main group of people waiting, hands clasped tightly in front of her. When she saw Frank, her mouth dropped open and she froze. The flight attendant wheeled Frank towards her and he could see from a good way back that her eyes were brimming with tears. Frank shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He hated it when his mother cried.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” she whispered, taking his face in her hands. “Look at you.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” said Frank, shifting awkwardly. “Really. It’s not as bad as it looks. They think I’ll be back to normal in a few months.”

She sniffled and stroked his hair. “When I got that phone call telling me what had happened...”

“I’m _fine_.” Casting around for a distraction, Frank realised that Ray was standing behind him, hanging back just a little. “Mom, you should meet my Guide, Ray. Ray, this is Linda, my mom.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” said Ray, offering a hand for her to shake.

“It’s Linda,” she insisted. “Thank you so much for taking care of my baby boy.”

“Mom,” Frank groaned, “it’s Lieutenant Iero now, if you don’t mind.”

Linda rolled her eyes at him and took charge of the wheelchair, leading the way to the car. Getting Frank inside was pretty awkward, because as little as he was, Linda was even smaller, and Ray, still on crutches, couldn’t help much. But they managed it in the end and were on their way at last.

The traffic back to Belleville wasn’t too bad. As they got closer to home and reached the familiar streets which led to the house, Frank found himself becoming more and more eager to arrive. He’d only been away for a few months, but everything seemed different. Smaller, and older, but seeing everything again Frank was struck by how much he’d missed it.

Getting out of the car was as awkward as getting into it, and manoeuvring the wheelchair through the house was another challenge. Linda had set up the fold-out sofa in the living room for Frank and told Ray he could sleep in Frank’s bedroom upstairs. Frank wasn’t thrilled with having to sleep in the living room, but he thought Ray seemed even more displeased about the prospect of sleeping in Frank’s bed. He wondered why.

Once they got him settled on the fold-out bed, with a blanket over his lap and the television remote on the side table, Frank felt his eyelids grow heavy. He sort of wanted to stay awake a bit longer and enjoy being home, but Ray was standing by the sofa and looking at him with a concerned expression.

“Can I get you a drink, sir?” he asked. “Coffee? Soda?”

“I’m just going to have a nap,” said Frank, sinking into the mattress. “You should go do whatever. Relax.”

He thought Ray might have asked him another question, but he was too close to sleep to understand it.

****************

Since Frank was asleep, Ray left the room, trying to use his crutches quietly and not succeeding very well. Frank had to be tired, as he didn’t stir.

Mrs. Iero – Linda was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. “Can I help?” Ray offered.

Linda looked up from the onion she was chopping. “Oh, no,” she said. “You should be resting. Can you get upstairs okay? Why don’t you go have a nap.”

“I’m not tired,” Ray insisted, although he sort of was. Good thing Frank wasn’t awake to hear Ray lie to his mother. “And I’d like to help, if there’s anything I can do.”

“Well...” Linda looked thoughtful. “You could soak the lentils. If you look in the pantry, on the middle shelf...” With Linda’s directions, Ray eventually found the lentils and measured a cup into a bowl of hot water.

“What are you making?” he asked, trying to puzzle out the ingredients on the bench.

“Spaghetti, with a vegetarian bolognaise sauce for Frank.”

“Frank’s a vegetarian?” Ray asked, surprised. “He’s never said.” Ray thought back over the past few months. He was sure he’d seen Frank eating meat.

“Well, that’s something,” said Linda. “I’m glad he hasn’t been pestering you with complaints about having to eat meat during his training. I haven’t heard the end of it since he left!”

“Yeah, that must... be hard for him.”

“In his last letter he said the best part of finishing Officer Candidate School was getting closer to having his own kitchen facilities and being able to cook his own food.”

Ray tried to find a smile. “I bet.” Linda got him to grate a carrot while she sliced tomatoes, and he worked quietly, thinking hard. He could just about manage to burn a piece of steak so it was still edible. Most Sentinels preferred bland foods anyway, so his cooking skills had always been enough to get him by. Just barely, but still. But the sauce Linda was making already smelled delicious, even though it was just onions and garlic in a saucepan. She tossed in the diced tomatoes and Ray’s stomach growled. He knew that it was far beyond his skills to make meals like this, especially when he was going to need to learn an entirely new bunch of recipes to cater to Frank's vegetarian tastes. The prospect was intimidating.  
“So, Frank says your parents live in Belleville too,” said Linda once the pasta was cooking and the sauce was simmering. “What did they say when you told them you were coming home?”

“Oh, uh... I haven’t called them yet, actually.” The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, between everything that had been going on. His mother was going to be so pissed.

“You haven’t... Ray!” Linda exclaimed. Ray hunched his shoulders. “They’re going to want to see you! You should go call them right now!” She took the wooden spoon from his hand and nudged him away from the stove. “The phone’s on the counter.”

Ray wanted to put it off some more, but Linda looked kind of fierce. He had to face the music some time.

“So what’s pilot training like?” Ray’s mother asked when he got her on the phone.

“You know, it’s not actually me who’s doing the... um. Never mind.” Ray tried to think. “That’s actually been delayed for a while.”

“Why, is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. Um, not really. It’s just that there was a small car accident on the way.”

“Oh my goodness, were you hurt?”

“No,” said Ray again. “No, I’m fine. Totally fine. But Frank was a bit banged around, so they’ve delayed his training for a while so he can get better.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, it’s... but anyway, the bright side is that they decided to send Frank home while he’s healing, and Frank lives in Belleville!”

“Oh!” said Ray’s mother, her voice getting louder. “Oh, Ray! You’re coming home?”

“Yeah,” said Ray, unable to hold back a smile at hearing his mother so happy.

“So are you flying? When does your plane arrive?”

“The plane?” Ray asked nervously, trying to ignore the feel of Linda’s eyes on the back of his head. “Uh, well, it arrived at half past four. This afternoon.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, except for the sound of Ray’s mother breathing, something he recognised as a sign she was deciding to let something go.

“Four thirty this afternoon,” she said evenly. “Okay.” Ray winced, but before he could apologise she said, “I don’t understand, they’re going to have you stay with Frank while he’s getting better? They’re not sending you off somewhere else?”

Ray fiddled with the phone cord nervously. “Uh, yeah, that’s the other thing...”


	5. Chapter 5

Frank solved the issue of Ray not wanting to go into his room by telling him to go to bed already so Frank could get some rest. There were probably better ways he could have handled it but he hadn’t been able to think of any. Frank sank into a restless sleep but woke up hours later when he heard someone shuffling around in the kitchen.

It was his mother. Frank could tell by scent, and he shifted on his bed and then called out to her softly.

“Are you okay, Frankie?” Linda asked, coming to the doorway. She was holding a glass of water and she looked tired.

“I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Just after two.” Linda smiled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping well either.”

“Can I get you something?”

“Coffee?”

“You’ll be awake all night.”

Frank sighed. “Okay, just water then?”

Linda brought him a glass of water and handed it over, sitting on the edge of the bed while he drank. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” said Frank. “I’m fine.” Linda was quiet, and from experience he knew it wasn’t that she had nothing to say but that she was choosing not to say it. “What is it?” he asked.

“What’s Ray like?” she wondered, taking Frank by surprise.

“Ray? He’s awesome.” A giddy feeling rose up in Frank, and he recognised it because an SRB liaison had come to talk to him and explained that it was an effect of recently bonding. Frank didn’t care; it was still true. “He’s fun to be around. He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s good to you?” Linda asked.

“Yeah, Mom, of course,” said Frank, rolling his eyes.

“It’s just that you’re so young to be tied to one person for the rest of your life.”

“Tied isn’t the word I’d use...”

“But it is permanent, isn’t it?” Linda asked. “This bond thing.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s okay. Ray’s a good guy.”

“But you won’t get the chance to meet other Guides and see how you work with them.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like...” Frank paused. He’d been about to say that it wasn’t like marrying your first girlfriend, except that it kind of was. And even the Air Force said Sentinels should work with a few different Guides before they picked one to bond with. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand his mother’s worries, it was just that he didn’t feel the same way. He was happy with Ray. “We work together well,” he said instead.

“So you two aren’t... it’s just that I’ve heard lots of Sentinels and Guides are, uh...”

“Oh, yeah. Well, we are. I guess.”

“You guess?” Linda asked, her voice just slightly teasing.

“I don’t know, Mom, okay? It’s just a new thing, jeez...”

“But that’s what I mean, Frankie,” she said more seriously. “You haven’t known him for long. You’re only just getting to know one another, and now...”

“It’s fine,” Frank insisted. “It’s too late to take it back now, anyway.”

Linda did not seem reassured. “How did it happen, anyway?” she asked. “You said on the phone it was because of the accident?”

Oh, boy. “We were stuck in the car overnight until someone found us,” Frank said. Linda squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back. It had been pretty scary. At the time, he’d wanted his mom. “I was hurt pretty bad, and it was painful, so Ray had to link up so I could stop my senses spiking, and then we were linked up too long.”

“Hmm,” said Linda, and that wasn’t just a ‘hmm’, it was a ‘hmm’ which had other words in it.

“What?” asked Frank testily.

“Well, it’s just...” Linda hesitated, and Frank grew crabbier.

“No,” he said.

“No, what?”

“No, Ray didn’t take advantage of me. He didn’t sustain the link on purpose while I was too out of it to know what was happening.”

“Okay, Frank, I believe you,” she said, and then ruined it by adding, “but how do you know?”

“Because Ray said he didn’t, and I can tell when someone’s lying!” Frank snapped. The G-TAC assholes who had come to the hospital had seemed to have trouble with that concept too. Sure, Ray had been agitated and anxious when they asked him about it, but that was because they were interrogating him. Anyone would have reacted the same way.

“Alright then, that’s good,” said Linda, standing up and taking Frank’s empty glass. “You can’t blame me for being concerned.”

“I don’t,” said Frank, “but if you bother Ray about this or make him feel bad...”

“I won’t!” said Linda. “You should know me better than that, Frankie. I just worry about you.”

Frank relaxed slightly. “I know. I just...” He paused. He couldn’t share things with his mother that he was uncomfortable knowing himself. “He’s been through some stuff,” he said. “And some of the Air Force guys have given him a rough time. You know one of them suggested he orchestrated the accident so he’d be able to bond? He wasn’t even driving!”

“That’s awful,” said Linda, and she softened immediately. Frank felt sort of bad for manipulating her, except... well, it was true.

Frank yawned widely and Linda stood up. “I need to go try to sleep some more, and so do you,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

***************

Ray’s mother came by mid-morning the next day. Linda had had to go to work and Frank was dozing in the living room with an episode of _The Bold and the Beautiful_ playing softly in the background, so Ray hurried to answer the door before the bell woke him.

He’d sort of expected that she would look angry and disappointed. She didn’t, though, and the second she opened the door her face seemed to crumple.

“Ray,” she said, “it’s good to see you.” She reached for him, and Ray didn’t know how to hold back from her. He went into her arms and wanted never to let go.

“I missed you,” he said, once he was sure he could speak clearly.

“Well,” she said some time later, stepping back and swatting Ray on the chest, “come help me get everything out of the car, then.”

“Ma,” Ray groaned, but she wasn’t listening. The car was loaded. She’d baked cookies, sometime between when Ray had called the night before and now, and she’d packed a stack of photo albums. Too many, Ray thought, to simply be from the years since he’d left home, but he didn’t like to ask. She’d brought his guitar, because she’d asked if he wanted it and he’d hesitated slightly before saying no. 

Frank had woken up by the time they got everything inside, although he didn’t look very alert. He was blinking at a commercial for insect repellent and seemed happy to be distracted.

“This is my mom, Georgina,” said Ray, “and this is Second Lieutenant Iero.”

“Frank,” said Frank instantly, reaching for a handshake with his good hand.

“It’s a pleasure,” said Georgina, and Frank’s eyes fell on the photo albums.

“Are those photos?” he asked, the speed of his words increasing rapidly. “Do you have photos of Ray? Baby photos of Ray?”

“No,” said Ray quickly, but Georgina answered at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Cool!” exclaimed Frank, and Ray sighed and consoled himself with the thought that he could probably get Linda to dig out photos of every embarrassing thing Frank had ever done, once she got home. He moved the guitar case over to lean it against the wall, and that was the next thing to catch Frank’s attention.

“You play?”

“Yeah,” said Ray reluctantly.

“Me too!” Frank said excitedly. “I guess I can’t right now, though. Damn.” He scowled down at his cast and Ray felt a little bad for him.

“Would you play something?” Frank asked. Ray stopped feeling sympathetic towards him instantly.

“I don’t know...” he said.

“Go on, Raymond, play something,” said Georgina. Ray couldn’t believe he’d been so happy to see her just minutes before. “We’d all like to hear you play.” She looked over towards Frank. “He’s so good,” she gushed. “Ray was in a band in high school, weren’t you, Ray?”

Ray made a face and opened the guitar case while Frank asked about his band and talked about the bands he’d been in during school and college. 

“I used to want to be a rock star,” said Frank, “but with the whole Sentinel thing... the noise doesn’t bother me, but the lights were an issue. I had trouble playing in clubs, and I tried to go on tour after my freshman year of college, but I didn’t realise how bad people could smell after not showering for a week. Of course, boot camp is just as bad but they don’t tell you that ahead of time.”

Ray had to snicker at that. He’d toured after high school. It had been cut short when he’d been drafted, but it had been the best time of his life. He tuned the guitar by ear, rather sloppily. There was a tuner in the case but he didn’t bother to use it. He wasn’t going to play well anyway, might as well have the weak excuse of poor tuning on his side.

He played the first thing he could think of, which turned out to be an Iron Maiden song – no surprise there. He remembered the first part well, with only a few parts sounding off, but then he couldn’t remember how to play the transition to the chorus and ended up playing the first verse again. He stopped and lowered the guitar, frustrated.

"You're pretty good!" Frank said, grinning hugely. Ray sighed and put the guitar back in its case. Pretty good, like a little kid learning to play a G chord for the first time, when they couldn't get all the notes to sound simultaneously, but you told them they were awesome anyway because at least they were the right ones.  
The band he’d toured with hadn’t been anything special and they hadn’t gone far, but when he'd played, people had noticed him. They'd looked at him like he knew something, was someone worth listening to. That had never happened again after he'd gone into the Air Force. He'd got used to people treating him like he was a bit dim, like he needed to be told what to do in the simplest terms, like every time he managed to do something right it was a minor miracle, because he was a Guide and Guides weren't good at that sort of thing, things which mattered. But at least he'd always known he was good at _something_. Now he had to question that too.

After another thirty minutes or so of chatting, Georgina said, “You must come home for dinner tonight, Ray, and see your father and brothers.”

“I can’t,” said Ray instantly, only to be pinned by matching incredulous looks from Frank and Georgina.

“Why on earth not?” Georgina asked.

“Yeah,” said Frank. “Of course you can.”

Ray blinked at them both. “I need to stay here and take care of Frank!” he insisted. “I’m his Guide.”

“Don’t be silly, Ray,” said Georgina. “Of course you can take one night off to see your poor mother who may not be long for this world.”

“Oh, God, please don’t talk about dying,” Ray groaned. He glanced over at Frank who was smirking with suppressed amusement.

“She’s right,” Frank said. “My mom can take care of me tonight. You should go see your family.”

It seemed like everyone’s mind was made up without needing to ask Ray’s permission, anyway. He didn’t really mind. He just hoped his G-TAC liaison never got wind of it. They’d...

Well, actually, they probably wouldn’t do a damn thing. They couldn’t, not now. Not with him bonded to Frank.

And that was how Ray ended up going home with his mother to help her cook tea. He took his guitar with him, partly because he thought there might be a chance to ‘forget’ it up in his bedroom, and partly because he didn’t want to leave it out of his sight. He could see that those two conflicting desires were going to clash sometime in the near future, but he’d worry about it when it happened.

“I made your bedroom into a guest room,” Georgina said as they drove, “but all your things are still in there. You can take whatever you want with you.”

The house had no right to look exactly like it did in his memory, not when Ray had changed so much. It was unfair, like the house itself was rubbing in the fact that he didn’t belong any more.

His father and brothers were pleased to see him, but the conversation was awkward. No one seemed to know what to say to anyone else until the food was ready, and then talking happened without needing any input from Ray. He tried not to feel hurt by it. He could hardly expect that after four years they wouldn’t have got used to him not being around. It was for the best, anyway; after just a few short months, he’d be gone again, and who knew how long it would be before he could come back. If he ever did.

He slipped out of the room after the meal, hoping that no one noticed. He went up to his room – to the guest room, and took out his guitar, cradling it in his arms and strumming the strings quietly. Someone knocked softly on his bedroom door and his mother's voice called, "Can I come in, Ray?"

He didn't really want to see anyone, but it was his mother, so he said, "Sure."

She came through the door and closed it behind her, giving him a piercing look. "Now, sweetie," she said firmly, "do you want to tell me what's been going on?"

Ray looked down, focusing on his hands on the guitar strings. She knew something was wrong. Of course she did. She would have known ever since his phone call a month ago, when he'd nearly ended up crying on the line to her. And she wouldn't let it go; his mom didn't do that. He couldn't tell her the truth. It wasn't just that he didn't want to talk about it. After this week was up, he had to go back to the Air Force, back to dealing with G-TAC and the SRB and every airman who thought Guides were useless. There was no way for him to get out of it, and if his mom had too accurate an idea of what his life was really like, it would just upset her. Ray didn't want her to worry when there was nothing she could do. He'd be fine, anyway. He could deal with it himself, and it would be better if he didn't have to worry about how his family was coping at the same time.

"Raymond?" she asked softly while he sat there. Ray sniffed, and she put a hand on his shoulder. She sat next to him on the bed and put her arms around him. Ray went where he was moved without a fight, because that meant he could put his face against her shoulder, and that was better. Better that she couldn't see him.

They sat like that for a long time.

*******************

It wasn’t long before Frank had had as much lying around and sleeping as he felt like doing. Unfortunately, he was still a long way from being able to get up and move around on his own. He got bored quickly, and a bored Frank, he could readily admit, was difficult to put up with.

He had follow-up appointments with his doctor, to make sure the broken bones were healing right. He seemed happy with Frank’s progress and let him switch from the bulky casts on his legs to more lightweight ones. If Frank’s arm hadn’t been broken as well, the doctor said he’d have been able to get around on crutches or a walking stick, a prospect Frank found unbearably tantalising. As it was, though, he was still confined to a wheelchair which he couldn’t even wheel by himself.

Ray had been taking care of him, and while he was pretty good company, there was something about the solemn way he did it that bothered Frank. Like someone was giving him marks. He went back to his family’s house a few times, but never for longer than half a day.

“You must have friends that you’d like to catch up with,” Frank insisted. He did. He’d called most of them, the ones who were still in Belleville, and some of them had come around to visit. None of them had stayed very long. They were all busy now, with jobs and girlfriends and who knew what else. A couple of them had kids now. Kids. The idea blew Frank’s mind. “Don’t you?” Frank pushed, when Ray didn’t answer.

“Not really,” he said at last, reluctantly like he was hoping Frank would forget what they were talking about and let the subject drop. “I’ve lost touch with most of them.”

Right. Maybe he should have let the matter drop, but on the other hand, Frank knew there was more to it than Ray was letting on.

“There’s that guy you write to sometimes, isn’t there? Mikey or whatever?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ray agreed slowly. “I think he’s pretty busy, though.”

Having had plenty of practice, Frank had learned how to tell when Ray was... not quite lying, but keeping something back that he didn’t think Frank needed to know. He’d never do something as forthright as tell Frank to mind his own damn business, of course. On the other hand, he couldn’t help wondering if he could push Ray to that point. He’d been being careful, Frank understood that now, but the bond was irreversible. He could tell Frank to fuck off without anything awful coming of it. If Frank just gave him enough of a nudge...

“You should call and ask him!” Frank insisted. “You never know.”

“I might,” Ray said, like the words were being dragged out of him.

“If you end up meeting up with them, maybe I could come along,” Frank added. He felt sort of bad about inviting himself along, but he was tired of being cooped up in the house every day. “It would be nice to get out for a bit,” he said without feeling a trace of guilt. It was the simple truth.

“He’s a Guide,” Ray blurted out, looking sort of startled like the words had come out unintentionally. “Mikey’s a Guide. His brother, Gerard, is his Sentinel.”

“Oh.” Frank hadn’t been expecting that, but when he thought about it, it did explain Ray’s evasiveness. Sentinels could be possessive, especially newly bonded Sentinels. And yeah, Frank could admit that the idea of Ray hanging out with another Sentinel wasn’t really filling him with joy. But on the other hand, now he knew what was up he could deal with it. Ray should be able to see his friends. “So we probably shouldn’t just turn up, then?”

That actually got Ray to laugh. “No, probably not.”

*******************

Frank was still reliant on his wheelchair to get around, but Ray was up and walking finally, and took the opportunity to get Frank out of the house. Linda had taken them out a few times, but she was pretty busy and Ray gathered that Frank didn’t relish the idea of tagging along with his mother all day, which he could understand.

They went to the comic book store, which was great. Frank amassed a stack of what seemed like every second comic the store carried, talking excitedly about all the catching up he had to do. Ray grabbed the issues off the shelves as Frank pointed them out and put them on Frank’s lap. They were heading for the register when Frank looked back at him, tilting his head back against the wheelchair to look at Ray upside down which made him feel dizzy.

“Don’t you want anything?”

Ray looked around. It hadn’t occurred to him to look for something for himself. It had been years since he’d read a comic; the titles he’d once followed now looked unfamiliar and he didn’t know where to start. Frank’s question had made him want to get something, though, so he picked up a Batman issue at random and continued towards the checkout. They had a brief but fierce discussion over who was going to pay, but Frank must have realised that paying for himself was important to Ray because he backed off pretty quickly.

Ray had expected Frank to have other plans once they’d been to the comic book store, but instead he glanced over at Ray again and said, “Anything you want to do?”

Ray opened his mouth to say no, but changed his mind before he spoke. “Why don’t I take you to my favourite music store,” he said instead.

It was a pretty awesome store, if Ray said so himself. They had a huge selection of CDs, cassettes and vinyl, and back in high school when Ray had been dropping in frequently enough that he’d known all the staff by name, the owner had made a point of holding anything that came in that he thought Ray would be interested in.

Frank set himself up with a set of headphones and seemed content to sit and listen, so Ray wandered the racks, looking for CDs that caught his eye. He was trying to decide between two when he felt a pull through the bond – and that sensation wasn’t getting any less strange – and realised that Frank was looking for him.

“I have to get this album!” Frank exclaimed, waving the headphones over his head with his one good hand, an earsplitting grin on his face. So they grabbed it and Ray gave the CD to Frank to hold, which made him realise he still hadn’t made up his own mind.

“I don’t know which one to get,” he said when Frank asked him what was bothering him.

“So just get both?” Frank suggested, and Ray could feel himself relax. Of course. He could get both of them, if he wanted to. He was bonded now; he wasn’t going to be shipped around to a new Sentinel and have to conform to whatever luggage restrictions they, or the Air Force, saw fit to impose. He could just leave his stuff with his mother, if he wanted to, but if he wanted to take anything with him he was pretty sure Frank would be cool with that too.

Ray hadn’t expected Eric, the store owner, to recognise him, but he did a slow double take when Ray reached the front off the line, and said “Toro! What the hell happened to your hair?”

Ray gave a startled laugh. “Air Force,” he explained. “This is my Sentinel, Frank.” Introducing Frank like that was sort of a thrill – getting to say ‘my Sentinel’, like Frank was his, and also introducing Frank by his first name, like they were friends, and not just officer and subordinate – which Ray was also pretty sure was true.

They exchanged a few pleasantries and then it was time to go – they’d arranged to meet Mikey and Gerard at a Chinese restaurant for a late lunch. After Ray had explained the situation to Frank and he hadn’t flipped his shit, Ray had begun to feel some tentative anticipation. He was looking forward to seeing them again. He’d talked to a few old friends since coming back to Belleville, but their lives had all gone in a very different direction than his. The Ways would at least understand what it meant to be a Guide.

He wasn’t sure how Frank was handling it. He seemed fine, and he’d taken the revelation that Gerard was a Sentinel pretty well, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t flip out once he actually got near another Sentinel. It was making Ray feel pretty nervous.

They were already there when Ray and Frank reached the restaurant, sitting in the back and talking quietly. They looked just the same. Mikey’s glasses nearly sliding off the end of his nose, Gerard fidgeting in his seat with his fingers covered in dried paint, both of them looking like they hadn’t washed their hair in a week.

They stood up when Ray and Frank got close, standing shoulder to shoulder with their eyes coming to rest on Frank in a show of unity that Ray thought was meant to appear threatening. He thought they should have saved their energy; Gerard and Mikey were about as threatening as a pair of puppies. Frank, for his part, stopped a few feet from the table, which made it a little awkward to introduce him but Ray managed.

“Hey,” he said. “This is Lieutenant Iero. Uh, Frank. Frank, this is Gerard and Mikey.”

They all nodded at one another and Gerard, who looked unusually solemn, finally cracked a smile. They sat at the table and Ray glanced around for the waiter. Frank picked up a menu and asked, “So what’s good here?”

Gerard and Mikey were having a not-quite-argument about whether Gerard would get noodles as well as rice, so Ray looked over the menu to see if it had changed. 

"I usually get the sweet and sour pork," he said. "But they'll do anything with tofu instead of meat, if you ask for it. The vegetable stir fry is actually really good, but it's kind of hot."

Frank nodded and had made up his mind by the time the waiter came to take their orders. There was a moment’s lull once the waiter was gone, during which Gerard looked at Frank thoughtfully and then said, "So, Frank, I take it we have you to thank for Ray suddenly remembering that we exist?" 

"Fuck's sake, Gerard," said Ray, turning bright red. "You won't be invited next time." Interfering little shit. He could feel Frank stiffening beside him and reaching to take his hand, as though he thought Ray needed his protection. It was a sweet thought, but still...

“Air Force keeps us pretty busy,” Frank said in a clipped voice. “I don’t remember Ray getting a whole lot of letters from you two, either.”

Jesus Christ. Ray kept still and tried to pretend that he was resting his hand on his knee because it was comfortable and not because Frank was holding on to it. He looked at Mikey as though he could will Gerard out of existence too, and said the first thing which came into his head, which happened to be: “Any good shows coming up this weekend?"

Mikey launched into a spiel about a show he was planning to go to and Ray listened, but was distracted when Gerard said to Frank, "We used to send letters once a month, regular, but for a while Ray didn't reply. A few got sent back to us unopened."

“I didn’t know that,” Ray said, too startled to keep the words in. Reading letters from friends and family was a privilege Major Stephens had only extended if he thought Ray had earned it, and being permitted to write a reply had been rarer still, but it sounded like he’d sent a few of them back without even telling Ray about it. Maybe he’d decided that reading letters from friends was too frivolous for a Guide, or something. It wouldn’t surprise Ray. 

He wished he’d kept his mouth shut when Frank and Gerard turned to look at him with pitying expressions. He huddled down in his chair and wished to disappear.

“Are you in the service?” Frank asked, blatantly changing the subject. 

“Nah,” said Gerard. “We work for the health department.” He made a face, which made Ray laugh almost as much as the idea of Gerard and Mikey in the military. 

“Oh, that sounds... interesting,” said Frank.

“It’s shitty,” said Gerard. “Sniffing out rats. Looking for bacteria. Tasting ancient grease.” Frank made a face.

“It’s not all bad,” said Mikey. “We get excellent service pretty much everywhere.” As if to make his point, a waiter came by with a jug of water and extra napkins.

“I’m nearly finished a degree in social work, and Mikey’s halfway through his,” said Gerard. “We want to see if we can convince the SRB to let us switch fields, but it’s not easy to do that if they can’t see how Sentinel senses are useful. Really, in social work, it’s Mikey who’d have more of an advantage, so of course our liaisons have this gigantic stick up their collective asses about the whole thing.”

“Huh. That sounds pretty frustrating,” said Frank. Ray was impressed that he was taking meeting Gerard so well. A lot of people found him a bit overwhelming, even if they didn’t have a Sentinel’s territorial imperative to worry about. 

After the meal, Ray excused himself to use the bathroom and wasn’t too surprised when Mikey followed him a minute or two later. “What’s Frank like, really?” Mikey asked while Ray washed his hands.

“He’s really great,” Ray said.

“Good, because Gerard will kick his ass if he’s a dick to you,” Mikey said. Ray gave him a sceptical look. “Okay, he won’t,” Mikey admitted. “He’ll give him some big sad speech and make Frank feel really shitty about himself.”

“That, I could see,” Ray agreed. “But it’s cool. Frank’s awesome.” It was just as well, too, because they weren’t far enough away to keep Frank from listening to the conversation if he felt like it. That probably hadn’t occurred to Mikey, who’d been bonded to Gerard since he was a kid. Sometimes, in the years since finishing school, Ray had envied him that innocence, but now it made him happy.

“We weren’t sure what he’d be like,” Mikey said. “We were kind of preparing for him to be a jerk, because... well, you never said much in your letters, but we could tell something was wrong. Isn’t it?” he added, when Ray started and turned away, making a show of fixing his clothes in the mirror.

“Everything’s fine,” Ray said. Mikey’s expression remained doubtful and Ray sighed. It was like his mother all over again. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, “But things are better now, with Frank, and now that we’re bonded. So you can call Gee off. Oh, God,” he said, suddenly realising. “We’ve left them alone out there. Tell me Gerard wasn’t planning to interrogate Frank about his intentions or anything.”

“Not exactly,” said Mikey with a smirk.

*****************

Frank wasn’t sure if Mikey thought he was being subtle when he slipped out to the bathrooms after Ray. He wasn’t furtive about it, but he wasn’t particularly nonchalant either, walking away with a purposeful, focused expression on his face. He tried not to worry about it and keep his mind on Gerard, who was still sitting across the table, but that only reminded him that possibly the only thing keeping him from being beat up was whatever Mikey reported back. Gerard had no right to be as intimidating as he was; he was short (although taller than Frank) and he dressed kind of like a dork, but somehow, Frank was a little scared to see him pissed off.

“So, what do you think of being bonded so far?” Gerard asked.

“It’s... nice.”

Gerard grinned. “It’s the best, isn’t it?” I mean, me and Mikey sometimes have the most massive arguments, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Ray said you’ve been bonded since you were both young?” Frank said curiously.

“Since I was seventeen. Mikey was thirteen. I knew I was going to have to register for the draft soon, possibly be sent somewhere else in the country. You can be, even if you’re a conscientious objector. We were both sure we wanted to bond, so we just decided to do it.”

“You both seem really happy.”

“We are. If you ever want to talk about anything, you can always call me.” Gerard glanced at him. “A lot of Sentinels find it rough when they first bond. Your SRB liaison will always give you advice too, of course.” Frank couldn’t hold back his expression of distaste, and Gerard smiled at him. “Good. That was a test.”

“No shit,” Frank grouched.”If you ask me, we should get rid of the lot of them.”

“You’re pretty young to bond, they tend not to like that. You’ll probably have the SRB on your case for quite a while.”

“Oh, yeah. I was sort of expecting that.” Frank looked at Gerard, judging his sincerity, and decided to share a bit more. “We didn’t exactly bond entirely on purpose. It happened after the accident,” he raised his broken arm to illustrate, “because it took them all night to find us, and we were linked up the whole time.”

“Yeah, that would do it,” Gerard agreed, his surprise fading. “With the added stress and everything – especially if you were particularly compatible.”

“The thing is, G-TAC sort of got it into their head that Ray took advantage of the whole thing,” Frank said, lowering his voice. “Because I was pretty out of it. They were pissed. They let us come home, but I keep worrying about what they’ll try to do once I’m better.”

“They can’t really do anything, aside from make a nuisance of themselves, which they’d do anyway,” said Gerard. “They can’t break the bond, and the law says you’ve got pretty much complete power over any Guide you’re bonded to. They’ll probably make you jump through a bunch of hoops, but they can’t do anything to Ray. Not without your say-so, and you won’t, will you?” He glared at Frank, suddenly fierce.

“Of course not!” Frank said, startled.

“Well then, you’ll be fine,” Gerard said, settling back in his seat, calm once more. “G-TAC likes to think they’re the authority on how Sentinels and Guides are supposed to be. Any decent Sentinel knows better than to pay attention to them.”

“There’s plenty of indecent Sentinels out there, then,” said Frank, thinking of two in particular.

“Yeah. There’s lots who like the power rush,” said Gerard. “And G-TAC won’t do anything about them... shit, they basically tell Sentinels they can do anything to their Guides and that the Guides probably had it coming anyway. I’ve written letters to everyone I could think of, but no one really wants to hear it. I think if G-TAC admits that their whole system is just so much bullshit, people will realise how irrelevant they actually are, so they’ll never let it happen.”

“That’s stupid. People can’t just not noticed how fucked up it all is, can they?”

“Well, most people aren’t Sentinels or Guides. G-TAC keeps the Guides pretty quiet, and Sentinels get a reasonably sweet deal out of the whole situation – or at least, they think they do. Maybe if more normal people, parents with little baby Guides and shit, had a better idea of how things were, it might make a difference. Most newspapers won’t publish letters about it, though, more’s the pity.”

“Huh. Well, if you’re ever looking for a letter writing buddy...”

Gerard grinned broadly. “I knew I liked you!”

*****************

When they reached the house in Linda’s venerable Nissan Pulsar, Ray could tell that Frank was worn out. He’d been very quiet on the drive home, nearly dozing off several times only to startle awake at every red light. Ray carried Frank inside, not wanting to bother wrestling the wheelchair up the steps.

“Carrying me over the threshold, Ray?” Frank said into his neck. Ray snorted.

“Where do you want to go, back to the living room?” he asked.

“I guess,” Frank answered with a sigh.

“Or do you want me to take you up to your room?”

“My room? What on earth would we do up there?” Frank asked, although his playful tone suggested he had an idea or two.

“We’ll just have to think of something,” Ray answered with a grin.

The room was a familiar sight to Ray now, although it had never felt quite right to sleep in Frank’s bed while Frank slept on the couch in his own house. Having Frank in the room with him added a new level of appeal. He put Frank carefully on the bed, but Frank kept his arms wrapped around Ray’s neck. Ray laughed and slid his hands under Frank’s shirt.

“You’re going to have to let go, this will get uncomfortable fast,” said Ray.

“Meh,” Frank said, but he released his grip and let Ray pull his shirt off. “You too,” he demanded, hands instantly going to Ray’s shirt.

Ray took his shirt off and when he looked Frank had his sweatpants half off, awkwardly trying to pull them the rest of the way with his one good hand. It was pretty amusing to watch, but he relented fairly quickly and helped Frank out. He hesitated for a moment over whether to take his pants off, but he was wearing jeans, and as comfortable as they could be, jeans were never good sleepwear. He took them off and nudged Frank over so there was room for him in the bed too.

It was still only a single bed, however, and they were pressed close together. Having Frank so close was having a definite effect on Ray, and when he glanced at Frank’s face he saw that the other man had noticed. Frank put a hand on his hip and rolled onto his side to face Ray squarely, but he grimaced after a moment as the position put pressure on his still healing ribs, and rolled back.

“Still sore?” Ray asked. Frank nodded but nudged Ray’s hip, trying to pull him closer. He slipped two fingertips under the waistband of Ray’s boxers and glanced up at him, eyebrows lifting slightly. 

Ray held his breath for a second and then let it rush out, saying, “Okay. Fuck, yes.” He pulled the boxers down, hesitating slightly to pull the elastic over his cock, but Frank reached in and got his hand around Ray, who went from mostly to completely hard in an instant.

“Ohhh,” Ray moaned, his hips thrusting forward. He tried to gather his wits and slid Frank’s boxers down. Frank wriggled his way out of them without a hint of modesty, his dick springing free and bobbing around as he moved. It made Ray snicker a bit, and he reached for it, but Frank got there first, lining Ray’s cock up with his own and wrapping his good hand around them both. Ray gasped at the contact and pressed his face against Frank’s shoulder to hide the noise. It felt amazing, intoxicating and _right_ in a way he hadn’t expected this to ever be again.

Ray sucked at Frank’s neck, rolling over almost on top of him but taking care not to put too much weight on him. Frank got a good rhythm going, spreading precome down Ray’s shaft as he moved his hand, and Ray bucked into his grip. His own hands were free, Ray realised, and that gave him a wealth of choices. He slid one hand up Frank’s chest, pinching at his nipple gently. Frank groaned and pressed into the touch. With his other hand Ray reached down and cupped Frank’s balls, rolling them teasingly between two fingers. Frank spread his legs, although with his boxers around his thighs he couldn’t move too much. Ray moved his hand to get a firmer grip and a fingertip brushed against Frank’s entrance.

He drew his hand away slightly; he hadn’t meant to do that, but Frank didn’t seem bothered – in fact he shuddered and whispered, “Yes, yes. Fuck, do it.” So Ray brought his hand up and stuck two fingers in Frank’s mouth.

Frank sucked on them eagerly, lifting his head to stare into Ray’s eyes. His own eyes were huge, his cheeks flushed. He wrapped his lips around Ray’s fingers and pulled them further into his mouth as though he was sucking on something else, and Ray nearly came then and there. Knowing that they weren’t going to last much longer, he pulled his hand out and found Frank’s hole once more. Frank’s rhythm grew faster but more irregular as Ray pressed one finger inside, and Ray put his free hand over Frank’s. He added a second finger and Frank bucked underneath him, keening quietly and tossing his head. Ray thrust with his fingers in time with his hand on their cocks, and it only took a second or two for Frank to grunt and shudder his climax. 

With the slickness of Frank’s come all over his hand, Ray tightened his grip and came with one more stroke. Frank was half asleep already, eyes drooping closed, and Ray dropped a kiss just over his eyebrow before making himself get up to fetch a washcloth.

“Ray?” Frank murmured once they were both cleaned up.

“Mm?”

“That was good. We should just have heaps of sex, all the time.”

Ray couldn’t hold back a giggle, partly because he felt really happy and partly because Frank, almost asleep and very out of it, was unbelievably adorable. Ray kissed him again, because he just couldn’t think of a reason not to.

“I could get on board with that plan,” Ray said. He listened for Frank’s answer, but he was already asleep. Ray shifted his arms to hold Frank more comfortably, and let himself drift away into a contented, dreamless sleep.

***************

Frank placed his duffle bag at the foot of the stairs. “I’ve got everything,” he announced. 

“Are you sure?” Ray asked. “Toothpaste? Extra socks?”

Frank groaned. “Seriously? Mom already checked, I’ve got extra _everything_.” He was trying not to be too annoyed, though. He was pretty sure Ray was only worrying so much because he thought Frank would blame him if anything was left behind, or some G-TAC asshole would accuse him of doing a bad job.

“Okay, I believe you,” said Ray. “Did you grab my hat while you were up there?”

“Shit! No, I forgot,” Frank said. He started climbing back up the stairs, grumbling under his breath. “Elevators. Houses should all have elevators, life would be so much better.”

“You weren’t saying that a month ago,” Ray called after him, amusement clear in his voice. “You were looking for any excuse to go up and down the stairs.”

“Yeah, well, the novelty wears off pretty quick.” 

Frank took a last look around the bedroom for anything else that had been left behind. He grabbed a notepad from the dresser; it wouldn’t hurt to have extra paper so he could keep writing to Gerard. They’d made a little bit of progress writing to a local senator about the difficulties Guides faced when trying to report mistreatment. Not to the point of anything actually being done about it, but the guy seemed to be listening, which was something. Frank thought it was pretty sad that it represented the best response they’d had yet, but he refused to be discouraged.

Frank knew it would make a big difference for a lot of Guides if some changes could be made, but it would be dishonest of him not to admit that he’d been thinking of one Sentinel in particular when he suggested they focus on the procedures for reporting abuse. With the system the way it was, there was nothing that could be done about Ray’s previous Sentinels, and Frank knew that Ray worried about it. Frank had promised, several weeks ago, that if he ever met either of them blood would be spilled, and Ray hadn’t taken it well.

“You’d be court martialled, and how do you suppose that would turn out for us?” he’d demanded. Frank had argued, but Ray hadn’t backed down, which had made Frank realise how strongly he felt about it. He’d taken back his words then, but he still wasn’t sure what he’d do if he did come face to face with the Sentinels who’d hurt Ray. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay calm, wasn’t sure he’d want to. It was unlikely to ever happen, though, so he tried not to worry about it.

Ray was loading their bags into the car when Frank got downstairs with his cap and notepad and a few other odds and ends. “I hope you’re ready for your boldface and operating limits test,” Ray fretted as Frank squeezed the extra items into his bag.

“I should be, I’ve studied enough,” Frank answered. One perk of being out of commission for three months – he had a bit of an advantage over his classmates when it came to preparation.

Rather than answering, Ray said, “I think we’re ready to go. Where’s Linda?”

“She’s coming,” Frank said, leaning against the car. “There’s plenty of time, our flight doesn’t leave for nearly three hours. But, listen,” he added, taking the chance to be a bit more serious for once. “Now we’re bonded, I can pretty much insist that you get more training while I’m doing training, right?”

“Pretty much, I guess,” Ray agreed. “G-TAC might baulk a little bit, but they couldn’t make it too difficult – it would make them look pretty stupid.”

“That’s what I thought,” Frank agreed. “Assuming I can pass Initial Flight Screening, I’ve got another year of training ahead. You could do... I dunno, whatever. There’s heaps of mechanic training options.”

Ray nodded thoughtfully. “You know, once you’re finished training as a pilot, it’s nearly certain they’ll deploy you overseas,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Frank. The prospect made him pretty nervous, even as far off in the future as it was. “You’ll be with me, though,” he said, and that really did make him feel calmer about the whole thing. “We can look out for each other.”

Ray smiled at him. He often did, now, he seemed much happier, but Frank never got tired of seeing him smile. “Always.”


End file.
